


Illae Favillae

by Sameshima_Shuzumi



Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: F/M, Wordcount: Over 10.000, Wordcount: Over 50.000
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-17
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 51,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sameshima_Shuzumi/pseuds/Sameshima_Shuzumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The embers fly: Celena's dreams are coming true. But will it take a vision to be rid of Dilandau?  Gaddes/Celena.<br/>Major spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hakuen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakuen/gifts).



> Written for hakuen upon their donation in the help_japan pledge drive. Thank you.
> 
> This fic contains fanon psychology (and characters' opinions of such) built out of the fictional canon paradigms. As such there may be a resemblance to actual psychological issues, and might be triggery for recovery from trauma. You are advised to read this only *after* seeing the series, particularly if you're not familiar with said trauma(s). There are SPOILERS HERE, MASSIVE RUINOUS SPOILERS for _The Vision of Escaflowne_ , which is © Sunrise/Bandai.
> 
> Also contains references to death, religion, shiny hair, swears, tears, and a medieval-style age gap. It's chaptered out of necessity only, and can be read (or re-read) [straight through](http://archiveofourown.org/works/295045?view_full_work=true). More details in [notes from Gaia](http://archiveofourown.org/works/295045/chapters/472146#chapter_1_endnotes). See "notes from Earth" for remix rights and music (or spoliate yourself: ‹ www.youtube.com/watch?v=3KkUeRPjc-Y ›). Unauthorized duplication and distribution is prohibited.

> And first he will see the shadows best, next the reflections of men and other objects in the water, and then the objects themselves; then he will gaze upon the light of the moon and the stars and the spangled heaven; and he will see the sky and the stars by night better than the sun or the light of the sun by day. [...] Last of all he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him in the water, but he will see him in his own proper place, and not in another; and he will contemplate him as he is.  
> \- Socrates, The Republic, Book VII

  
Every night, she woke to a hot rain of metal. There were giants crushing the ground. The air was thick with smoke, and–

"Brother!"

It was the first word, every day. Celena had grown used to it. After all, she knew the giants were guymelefs, and that one of them held the King of Fanelia, and that the other one held her big brother. She knew how the dream ended.

Yet every time Allen came to wake her, she saw how it troubled the line of his brow. His eyes grew more shadowed by the day.

Some ease would return to his shoulders while they waited for the dawn. There was no use trying to go back to sleep, for either of them. They would take tea by the big windows: Allen pouring the hot water, Celena steeping and flavoring their cups as they preferred them. She learned to be quiet in those hours.

It wasn't the life she'd imagined. Then again, she hadn't done very much imagining at all.

The wonders of Asturia opened up for her like a banquet. Her brother, an esteemed knight! A leader of men! Yet she was tiring of watching the banquet from afar, tiring of the castle, and tiring of the guards floating her from place to place, like a mobile cage of silk and steel.

She wondered how those sparks had never burned her...

"Don't touch your face," came Allen's voice, startling her.

"Sorry," she said automatically. With great care, she folded her hands on her lap.

*

The knock on the door was soft, so it couldn't be a summons. Those bastards always banged on the iron keyholes to make the maximum racket. Still, Gaddes was up and in his service tunic in no time. Who knew, maybe it was a girl–

Well, he was mostly right about that.

"Please let me in," Celena whispered, then slipped past him anyway.

It was early – the stones were still cold underfoot – so Gaddes wasn't quite together. "You're gonna get me killed, kid."

Celena waved wildly to shut the door, rocking on her toes.

Gaddes laughed despite himself. "Alright, alright. What's this all about?"

She waited for the door to click closed. Then she held up a heavily filigreed pair of shears.

"Eh?"

"Please? I'd do it myself, but I can't see behind me. It's itching like crazy!"

Gaddes tried, unsuccessfully, to shake the sleep from his head. Who was this person, and what had they done with shy little Celena? He blinked again. This time, he looked her over more thoroughly.

He didn't detect anything seriously off-kilter. "You want me... to cut your hair? Don't you have a thousand servants to do that for you?"

Once the words came, they burbled out in a rush. "Yes, they're all afraid of Allen. Or Princess Eries. Or Princess Milerna. You're the only one who's not." She shook the shears, point up.

Gingerly, Gaddes turned the shears around so the handle was pointing out. "Like this. Your information is way off, Celena. The Boss is the Boss."

"The Boss is away," said Celena primly. Now Gaddes remembered. Allen was inspecting the river fortifications against night air attacks. He was going to be back for lunch, though... "We don't have much time," she added.

"Of all the secret missions– oh, all right. I gotta tell you, though, I'm not real good at this. You seen Ort's head?"

That got him a smothered giggle. Gaddes swept out his arm, and accordingly Celena plopped down on his unmade bed. She ran her fingers on her nape. "Just cut a straight line, here. I'll hold real still."

"Never seen you chatter like this," said Gaddes. She was usually this silent, willowy presence beside Allen. The Wallflower, the crew called her.

"Princess Milerna says I'm different in front of crowds," she said. "Besides. You're just Gaddes."

"That's not a very nice thing to say to a guy," he remarked.

"Oh." The blush traveled fast down her neck. "Sorry."

Gaddes could've knocked his own head. He peered at her hair, trying to figure out the best way to achieve a perpendicular cut. He noticed her shoulders were way too bony, but now wasn't the time for a lecture on her eating habits. "Don't worry about it, kid. Huh. I think I've figured it out."

"Figured what out?" True to her word, she didn't move her head.

"You're just excited 'cause you ditched your guards. This is a break-out!"

"I'm going right back! After you cut my hair."

"Women," Gaddes sighed. "I think my barber uses a comb, so just hang on a second... where... oh, been lookin' for that... there we are. My barber likes to talk, too." No tangles in her hair. It figured. "So you gonna tell me why you're risking everything to get a trim?"

"They want me to grow it out." Through the soft _shush_ of cut shafts and the tiny creak of the shear's rivets, Celena held very, very still. "I don't like it long. I don't care if it reminds them of him."

Gaddes almost cut a triangle out of her hair. "No one's gonna mistake you for him."

Snip. Snip.

Her voice was growing softer, more like the Wallflower he knew. "Brother thinks I don't know about the Sorcerors they interrogated. Dilandau," she paused, as though tasting the word in her mouth, "had different hair than mine. The Sorcerors were the ones who changed it."

Not just that, Gaddes thought. The last few locks were finer. He abandoned the comb, and twirled them in his finger. She didn't move when he brushed her ear, either.

"It's silly," she said, almost inaudibly, "It's silly not to wear my hair short just because Dilandau did too. I like it short."

"Why's that?" Gaddes said, trying in vain to brush the cut strands from her neck. Damn, he should have remembered his barber's trimming-cloak. Now his bed was full of that distinct ash-blond hair. He really would be dead in the water if someone found that.

"It doesn't get in my face when I'm digging. In the garden. Do you need help with that?"

"Uh, yeah, could you..." he sighed as she finished wiping the hair from her shoulders. "All done. You can move."

Despite the invitation, she stayed put. Her eyes were fixed on his narrow window. "Did you know," she said absently, "They won't let me have anything sharp? The vines need pruning all the time, and I have to pinch them off with my bare hands. Then Princess Eries catches me when I break my nails. For a while, they wouldn't even give me a stylus to practice my letters. What do they think I'm going to do with a stylus?"

Uh-oh. "You weren't running with shears, were you?" said Gaddes, a bit unnerved. "They told you not to do that, right?"

She laughed, her fingers fluttering over her lips. Suddenly she was sweet, shy Celena again. "I'm sorry. I've scared you. The new mix of medicines is really working much better, now. Except for being around strangers. Oh," she said. Her arm came up; she was pointing out the window. "Sunrise."

Gaddes stifled a groan. He had watch-duty, and the kitchens had just opened... At that moment, the sun broke from the trees and towers, illuminating Celena's pale face. She smiled, still unconsciously shaking out the last bits of hair.

"You should see it from 5000 up," Gaddes said quietly.

"It must be beautiful," she said. She folded her feet under her, and stood on the mattress, sprinkling hair all over his beddings. All the while, she didn't look away from the sunrise. "I wish I could see it. You see, Princess Milerna is only half-right about the crowds. I'm all right when no one strange is staring at me." Small chance of that, with her one-of-a-kind appearance and Allen's armed guards. "When they start staring, I try not to open my mouth. If I did, all I'd do is scream."

"How can you be so calm about that?" Gaddes burst out. Automatically he offered a hand to help her off the bed.

Celena shrugged. "I don't know anything else. Don't worry over it, Gaddes. If this was your whole life, you'd get used to it, too. Oh!" she cried so loudly, he was afraid he'd stepped on her toe. Instead, she whirled around, primping the ends of her hair. "It's perfect! It feels great. Thanks. You're the best." She grabbed the shears from him, and made for the door. "I'd better go. Don't worry, I'll tell them I did it."

"Don't run with them!" Gaddes hollered after her. "Or do anything... crazy."

Feeling like his head had been unscrewed and then shaken out, he turned to inspect his messed up bed, littered with the locks of his commander's little sister. He sighed. No breakfast for him.

 _That's the most I've heard her speak in months._ And it was the first time he'd been pretty sure of who was doing the talking.

"Gaddes, you idiot," he said to himself as he folded up the sheets. "She's going to be just as charming as her big brother."

*

She did remember that they had cut her hair. It was like the wrong end of a storybook: she'd wandered too far, the bogeys had gotten her, and now they were going to slice off her hair. Mother had so wanted them to grow it out, both hers and Allen's. Now Mother wouldn't recognize her...

She'd asked her reflection in the pond, too many times to count: _Is it you or is it me?_ Every time a tendril tickled her ear, every time a lock touched her brow. It seemed such a silly thing to get upset over. Just like it had seemed like a silly thing to cry over, when she hadn't even known if she'd see her family again.

Yet one day she'd looked at her reflection, comparing it with Allen (reading reports in the shade), and something new had welled up inside her.

I _want this. I want to look like myself, even if I don't know what that is._

Celena had spent so long figuring out what she wasn't, and being told what she wasn't. As far as she could ascertain, nobody else did it that way; in fact, of the people she knew, no one could tell in advance what sort of person they'd be tomorrow.

That very day, she'd put together her little plan. It was like the first breath of fresh air with the windows thrown open.

She could kill Dilandau another day. It was time to discover just who Celena Schezar was.

*

The whole incident piqued Gaddes's curiosity. Since the end of the war, the crew of the Crusade had been busy patching up every diplomatic brush-fire (and a few actual fires) this side of the mountains. This latest stint wasn't exactly a furlough, but a palace assignment usually meant down-time, and spending their pay in city taverns and country fairs.

Instead, Gaddes stayed at the royal compound. He and the rest of the crew hadn't seen much of Celena since her startling transformation from the murderously insane Dilandau. Hell, they'd avoided her. She was, at best, a tolerated caprice of the Boss's, and at worst a Basram bomb primed to go off at any moment.

Once, Allen had received a summons and unexpectedly turned over the wheel to him, taking Scherazade back to Palas. When they docked later the next day, Celena's screams were still echoing through the courtyards.

Gaddes figured it might be worth it to find out if she'd changed. The Boss was always worrying about his little sister. It was a full-time job, being the second to Allen Schezar, Knight of Asturia, headstrong pain-in-the-ass. He was always at Allen's elbow, anyway. No one would remark on his presence, any more than they would remark on Celena's.

After two days of observation, Gaddes was at a loss. She was less twitchy; she was prone to wandering away from Allen; yet if anything she was even quieter than before.

That evening before the council meeting, he'd discovered that a well-timed wink could send her into a fit of giggles.

In the quiet of a courtyard, Gaddes made an accounting of all he'd seen. A recon mission of sorts. "That's it," he said at last, snapping his fingers. He tipped his head back into the spray of a fountain. When she was first found, her eyes had been unnaturally dull, like calm sea on a sunny day. "Her eyes are alive, now. She's quiet 'cause she's watching."

Well, a person could watch like the Boss's hunting owl, and they could watch like a dragon about to burst into flame. He just wasn't sure which.

He set off for the royal quarters. A little risky, and it would probably get back to Allen, but Gaddes was always running errands for the princesses so it wouldn't start any gossip.

"Princess? It's Gaddes of the Crusade."

"Come in," Milerna Aston's voice floated through the door. At least she never had any guards in her anteroom, like some of the other nobles. "Gaddes! How nice to see you." They went through the usual royal pleasantries without him messing it up too much. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wonderin' about Celena." He was met with an amused, speculative look, and almost raised his hand in denial. Then she'd really think something was up. "I mean, her treatment and all that. We've been away from port so long, and you know how tight-lipped the Boss is about family."

"It is something of a private family matter," Milerna said cautiously. For a second Gaddes thought he was sunk, and out of line besides. Then again, this was Milerna. "What is it that was bothering you?"

"Kid said somethin' to me about crowds. She seemed all right around us fellows, but in mixed company..."

Milerna frowned. "Yes, I had noticed that. I don't think she's afraid of people, per se. Light on the right topic, and she'll talk to you. If there are too many people, it's as though she's a different person."

"Beg pardon, your majesty, do you mean a _different_ person?"

She leaned back in her upholstered chair. For the first time Gaddes noticed she had been writing a rather lengthy letter, two scrolls' worth at least. "She should be safe towards others, now. The medicines recovered from Zaibach have suppressed any physical transformations. Mentally... we have only her word for what is going on inside her head." Milerna's face lightened. "She believes in her heart that she is in control of herself. She's been all right thus far, so I think she's closer to being fully healed."

"But not there yet. Your majesty."

"If you want my medical opinion, such that it is, she's a normal fifteen-year-old girl. Going on sixteen. I don't think Dilandau can manifest in her. However, none of us are really sure whether she remembers his ... experiences."

"If you don't mind my sayin', your majesty, I think she's takin' it better than the rest of us."

Milerna laughed. "It's true! Sometimes I want to tell her the diagnosis first, instead of Allen. She does seem to be aware that her fears aren't her own. Like a cat shying from water, then looking annoyed at itself. You've noticed it too, haven't you? How restless she's becoming?"

"Yeah. Like she'd be out there in the crowd, if she could."

"She might be able to, someday. Lord Dryden tells me that phobias – irrational fears – they can be diminished gradually, one step at a time. Of course, I'm not sure Allen would let her out of his sight, or his guards'..." Milerna trailed off. Then she touched her lips, her eyes smiling.

Gaddes smirked. He bowed, proper-like, and said, "I'll take my leave of you, majesty. And I'll let you know if I notice anythin' different about the young lady."

*

Celena laid out the cut blossoms on Allen's exquisitely inlaid wood table. She was more sorry for the flowers than the table. She'd just work fast and wipe up the mess afterwards. Even if he were angry, he'd probably hold back.

"It's cruel to harrass your brother like that," she said to herself. Then she wondered at that sentence. Had her mother said that? And what a thing to do–to talk to one's self, and know that it was herself answering. She decided she quite liked that.

Carefully she cut down each stem with her thumbnail. Proper little spears to suck up the water. She was just about to place them in the vase when there was a knock on the door.

"Lady Celena?"

She started. How silly to be startled in one's own quarters, in the heart of a castle. Besides, she was tempted to answer that there were no ladies here. "Come in."

Gaddes poked his head in. "Hey. Wanna go for an outing?"

Through the vestibule, she could see that her guards were absent. Allen had left a nursemaid for the mornings, but Celena had dismissed her hours ago. "We wouldn't get very far..."

"Hang on, hear it out first. I've been thinkin', you're all right talkin' to me, right?"

Rashly she decided to jam in the flowers without arranging them. "We're doing that at the moment."

"Ha ha. And you're all right talkin' to the rest of those je– uh, crew, right?"

She knew Allen's crew, certainly. They were as wary of her as she of them, but she grasped what Gaddes was getting at. "Yes." She handed him the vase, then mopped up the table with her lace apron. "Some of them smell funny," she added, just to see the look on his face.

"I promise they've all taken a bath. This morning, even." Obediently he set the vase down where she pointed.

"This is because Allen's going up-country, isn't it."

Gaddes leaned his arm on the table, grin splitting his stubbled face, eyes alight with mischief. "Don't you wanna see your brother's ship?"

Hope bubbled up, and she tamped it down. It would be a change from these close walls, but... "Are you sure I wouldn't get in the way?"

"We're just cleanin' up and doin' inventory. Nothin' fancy." Gaddes straightened. "If you get into any kind of trouble, from being there, I mean– we'll come straight back here. "

They'd just be at the leviship port, then. Except the route from here to there crossed the city. She could barely make it a quarter of an hour in public, even with Brother's guards.

She looked up at Gaddes smiling at her so earnestly. _It's silly that I can't go out._ "I can't promise there won't be any trouble," she said at last.

"You wanna stop havin' trouble, you gotta risk it," Gaddes said with a nod. "I'm in, if you are."

 _Yes!_ "If you'll wait here for a miet, I have to change my shoes." She whirled, skirts catching on her ankles, and made for the private rooms. Over her shoulder, Celena caught Gaddes looking quizzical, and perhaps a little uncertain.

She saved her smile for Natal. "We'll be with the Crusade," she told her brother's owl. The bird offered no censure, just a blink. It would have to do. When she came back out with a small pamphlet and her gardening boots, Gaddes solemnly offered his elbow.

"Milady," he said correctly. It took her a moment to remember the proper nod. After all that drilling from Princess Eries, he still knew the royal forms better than she did. This venture was also going to be a lesson, of sorts. She had to pay attention.

"They're not very good guards, are they?" she remarked as they left the wing.

"Maybe I'm just that good at gettin' rid of 'em."

"You? But you're just Gaddes."

Gaddes almost objected. Then he caught her deadpan expression, and let out a chuckle. "That's why I'm that good."

No one stopped them, though Celena half-expected someone in noble livery to jump from behind every column. Her last objection died on her lips when Gaddes showed her the stagecoach: it was Princess Milerna's.

*

The stagecoach trip wasn't as bad as she'd feared. Gaddes showed her the bell-pull to call the driver (himself). Celena pulled the curtains shut. The sunlight trickled out anyway, dancing on the floor: long sweeping shadows through the city center, fluttering strips along the canals, darting specks when they passed under trees. Like sparks. Celena closed her eyes.

Gaddes had come up with this scheme so quickly. It had taken her almost half a month to get her hair cut. More, if she searched her journal for the exact day the idea had taken seed. Such a small step, yet so crucial. She had to learn when and how to act faster. _This is how to change the world._

 _This is how he keeps up with my brother. Hah._

She'd calmed down by the last uphill leg. It was almost a surprise to feel the coach come to a halt.

Gaddes swung open the door; the sun was like a live fire warming her skin. "You all right?"

"Yes, thank you." She raised her face. They were by the private stables reserved for nobles and diplomats. The Crusade hovered in the open air, tethers running from the bridge down to the stone piers. Along her broad side, some of the crew dangled from makeshift scaffolding and ropes. "It's beautiful."

He helped her off. His hand was warm and dry despite the long drive. "Been a while since you've been on board, huh?"

"It was dark as night, then," she said.

Just then, some of the figures noticed them. One cupped his mouth to call out, hanging dangerously with the other hand. "Gaddes, ya son of a bitch! Didn't think you were gonna show your ugly mug!" With a zip and whirr of pulleys, some of them dropped to get a closer look.

"Yo, watch your mouths, you scoundrels! Got a lady comin' aboard!"

"Oho!" yelled another. Celena recognized Riden. She tried to mark the rest of their faces. "You kidnappin' the Boss's sister?"

"Nah, she's here to see the old bird. Everything inside ship-shape?"

"He– heck, Gaddes, I thought you meant straight enough for the Boss. You didn't say nothin' about no lady."

Gaddes jabbed a finger at the lot of them. "You gonna imply that the Commander doesn't run a tight ship, in front of his only sister? Get in there and clean it up, you dogs! And get all the knives off the walls this time!" There was a chorus of grunts and whoops, and the pulleys whirred as they scrambled to obey.

Celena whispered, "You didn't need to go through all the trouble..."

"Hey, I told 'em to neaten up last night. 'Course, they all laughed, but they still shoulda done it." They came up to the ramp. Gaddes patted the ship, palm lingering a moment on the metal panels and rivets. "Alright, Celena, here's the drill. Don't mean to scare you, but this is pretty important. This is a ship of war. We could get called to duty at any moment. In that case, best place for you is Not On the Ship."

They walked on to an old fire safety station. Gaddes kicked open a cover. The map there was over-written with some deliberate scratches, but still readable. "Those are the escape hatches, fore, aft, and there's one in the belly marked with a flower, I'm sure you can find that one. We're right here at port, so you're a dozen steps to safety, as long as you run in the right direction. If you ever gotta leave, though, you tell me. If it's 'melefs or guys on horseback, you'll be safer on the ship. You know how to unstop the call tubes? Just holler if you need anythin'."

"Got it."

They bypassed a few areas where there seemed to be frantic mopping and tossing of dinnerware. A few flights up, Gaddes stopped at a door identical to the rest.

"Guess you remember this?" Gaddes opened the door to the captain's quarters, though he added a little half-twist which made the knob click. "Your brother's cabin. You wanna get some peace and quiet, just duck in here and close the door. No one'll disturb ya."

Celena knew every nook and corner of the chamber, if not by sight then by feel. She'd been in a daze for most of that journey to Asturia. At least one thing was different: the display of blades had been locked up.

"Will the others be all right with my being here?"

Gaddes looked like he was considering the rest of the day's schedule, as well. "Yeah. Sure, call it a general inspection. Now if I were you, I wouldn't toss their bunks, 'cause you might find more than you bargained for. This is your brother's ship. Besides the engine room, you've got the run of it." Mistaking her uncertain expression, he patted her shoulder briefly. "Hey, we're a hard-scrabble bunch, but these guys are alright. Not a one's gonna harm a hair on your head. They're all afraid of the inspector kickin' their asses."

"They don't... really think I can kick their asses, do they?" She glanced at him.

Gaddes winced at the language. Then it dawned on him what she was asking. He looked her straight in the eye, his voice low. "Hey. It's true: every single one of us has been in a battle with Dilandau. We've seen him up close, too. _We know the difference._ Better than most people. And if those d– guys are spooked, they're not fit to serve a Knight Caeli. They've gotta get used to you, same as you getting used to being out and about. But," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "if they do somethin' you don't like, like stare or fart or dig up their noses, just do what I do. Kick their asses." He winked.

She covered a laugh, and nodded. "Right. I'll just tidy up here for a bit. Brother can be so messy... and I'm sure the crew would like a little more time."

"Don't be afraid to talk to any of 'em, either. They could use the practice."

*

Of course, Gaddes drove the crew too hard for any of them to strike up a conversation. It was good for them; they'd been at port for a while, now, waiting for Allen to finish the latest round of political dealings. Word had it that Katz had picked up a girl, so it was definitely time to get them back into a routine.

The first day went as well as expected. She stayed until just before the midday meal, having introduced herself to each of their tiny crew, all without giving away much information in return. She spent the hours sitting quietly, just as he guessed she would. There was no trouble with flashbacks, though he'd figured as much when she'd arrived at the port without incident. In fact she was fairly cheerful – for Celena.

She was all ready to go when he checked with her on the second morning.

The guys were rowdier that day, peppering Gaddes with questions. Oh yeah, they'd figured out they were keeping these excursions from Allen. They weren't exactly worried, just puzzled. Gaddes explained it was part of her treatment, which was true, and stopped short of saying Allen was locking her up in that tower, because that... wasn't. Just a few noncommittal phrases, punctuated by more orders.

Gaddes himself kept busy, though he was observing Celena more closely than she likely noticed. Cautious and curious and a damn good listener. She'd even gotten Kio talking about evasive manuevers, and Gaddes was pretty sure she'd not said five words to him. On the other hand, she was a challenging read. But hey, he'd figured out Allen, so it couldn't be impossible. They went home a couple of hours before sunset, and mostly because Katz had a hot date, which in turn meant everyone else wanted to knock off early.

The third day brought a small rainstorm, and some of what Teo called the blood-and-guts repairs to the ship. Gaddes was so pre-occupied that he forgot to pick something up from the royal kitchens. So he groaned when he sat down to their usual luncheon spread and heard the patter of her footfalls.

The rest of the guys seemed to realize it too. Gaddes turned to apologize, maybe even take her back to the palace, but she was quicker.

"Oh! Millsbread!" She grabbed a bowl and started spooning up drippings. "It smells wonderful. Uhm, may I?"

There was a confused chorus of yeas. "That's almost as bad as tack," said Riden. "My ma's cook keeps makin' it. You like that stuff?"

In answer, Celena dipped her bread and took an enormous bite. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, lashes fluttering for a moment. "Homemade? Yes, I love this."

"Never seen a noble get close enough to _smell_ that."

"Much less gobble it up!"

Ort made to clap her on the back, but Gaddes stared him down. And kicked him in the heel besides.

This time Celena waited to swallow the piece. "That's because they don't serve it at the palace. Or anywhere near the palace. What?" She blinked at them. "You didn't think I was raised in the city, did you? What's now Allen's country estate – that's where I was born."

"So you're a country girl!"

Celena didn't seem to take any offense. "Sure. I mean, from what I remember. I don't think I ever visited an Asturian city, much less Palas."

Thus moved, Pyle and Riden offered up their shares. The whole table was rapt.

"Oh, thank you. We used to have these every feast-day and sea-day. The filled kind, with different colors, and the flat ones with sprinklings on top. The ones with candied piscus fruit were my favorite. They do smell a lot better when they're just out of the oven." She paused, considering her next bite. Or something else... "They remind me of home. Summers, before all the wildflowers turned brown, when they were blooming the most."

Riden was too far away for Gaddes to kick. "You really don't remember nothin' of Zaibach?"

"That ain't something to ask at the table," said Gaddes.

Celena waved him off. "It's all right. I had questions when they explained it to _me_. And you guys are going to keep gawking until I do," she added, barely keeping a straight face. Sufficiently chastened, they immediately backed off, but she wouldn't have it. "Really, there's not much to tell. Zaibach... took me, and they made Dilandau out of me. I was so young, I had no sense of myself, you see. It was easy for them to put the real personality to sleep. Pick out whatever they wanted. I don't remember much of the change. Neither does he, I think, since I have none of his memories from that time."

"You got his memories?"

"All that time?"

"Ain't you afraid of him?"

The last question drew out what Gaddes had come to know as her pensive face. "Not as long as he stays gone. Or asleep. His memories are just that: in the past. He can't hurt anyone, now, and that's what's most important."

With that, it was Gaddes's turn to sink into thought. He watched her the rest of the day, as she poked around the barrels of provisions, and laughed at the guys' antics, and huddled by the rain-streaked windows on the bridge. He was still thinking of it as he held a cloak over her head in that afternoon's drizzle. Steering them to the stables, he shooed away the hands, and harnessed the horses himself. "Celena? You really think Dilandau was made from you?"

"Parts of me," she said, as she carefully wiped off her boots. "It's not that far-fetched. I was taken when I was five years old. Have you ever seen a little child who doesn't know the difference between life and death?"

The right-hand horse tossed its head, restless. Gaddes stroked its flank to calm it.

In her soft voice, Celena continued. "Zaibach cultivated whatever was present. The most ruthless killer could come from an unknowing child."

"Well I guess it figures – you must've been the gentlest and kindest of the lot, to not know it."

Celena snapped out of her reverie into a smile. Like the sun coming out of the clouds. "I hadn't thought of it like that. Thank you. Anyway... I can't be bothered to be afraid of it. The Sorcerors are gone. The Emperor of Zaibach is gone. This will never happen to anyone, ever again." Her eyes drifted to the Crusade. "I believe that with all my heart."

Gaddes followed her gaze, and something lifted in his chest, like a wish that was worth fighting for.

*

On the fourth day, they put her to work.

Gaddes hadn't meant to let it happen. It wasn't as though she didn't have stuff to do, always lugging around a pamphlet or a sketchbook like she was. Just getting her out of the castle had been the original goal. But they'd literally had their hands full – with the starboard stabilizer, which had been off by half a degree for weeks, and for that long only because Teo was around to correct it on the charts.

It was an ambush. That was gonna be the story.

Half the guys around the monstrous piece of machinery, half the guys on pulleys, and all of a sudden, there was Celena. "Do you need any help?"

Gaddes was about to shoo her out when Pyle yelped, "Yeah! Where's that needle lined up?"

Celena went straight to the correct viewing port. "To my left, a bit."

"Watch your feet, little lady," said Riden, and just like that she'd taken over.

"Come two thumbs to me. Alright..." she grabbed a step-ladder and found the top viewing port, the men grunting around her, "Kio, turn it just a half-step this way. Wait! Good. I think it's set true, but–"

"She might as well check all of 'em. Ain't no way we're doin' this again!" someone at the ropes said.

Gaddes managed to budge over while she slipped between him and the last viewer. "It's good! Drop it!" she cried.

As they lowered it, Gaddes pulled her away. A second later, the whole thing settled into its housing with a metallic groan and a cloud of dust.

"Oh," said Celena. "I got grease on your shirt."

One eye on the flurry of bolt-tightening and pulley-wrangling, Gaddes dug out a handkerchief for her hands. "That's all right. Where'd you get that from?"

"The ladder was kind of sticky. Thank you."

"Hey, would ya look at that!" yelled Riden, flipping the scope back in place. "It's perfect!"

Teo gave a thumbs-up as the guys let out a whoop. "Not too shabby, milady."

There was that pleased blush. Celena kept her hands busy by folding up the handkerchief. "You guys did all the work. You don't have to keep calling me 'lady,' you know. 'Celena' is fine."

"Aw, that's a dangerous invitation," Riden said. "Gettin' familiar with names means we gotta come up with a nickname."

Celena was unfazed. "I thought you already had a nickname for me. Wallflower." Behind her, Gaddes flinched. She smiled, then, gliding right over the awkwardness. "I don't see why not. No one's ever given me a nickname before. _If_ you can come up with a good one."

Around then, Gaddes realized she was getting familiar with them... maybe a little too familiar. But it put color on her cheeks, and she ate heartily with them, and chatted just as much. So after two more little errands, he laid down the rules. He sent Celena back to the captain's cabin. At first, her face fell. He held up a hand. "There's some clothing of Princess Milerna's in the locker. Better put that on before you get any more grease on that dress."

She didn't quite skip away, but it was a near one. As for the crew, no one was gonna ask her to lift or drag or crawl around or go anywhere near anything that had a sharp edge or might explode.

Unfortunately, Riden brought it up that little hitch again. "We ain't tellin' the Boss?"

"Well don't give him nothin' to hear!" Gaddes snapped. They hopped to it for the rest of the day, though he wondered how long that would hold up.

Celena was a climber, dusting off parts of chambers Gaddes hadn't even seen – "Did you know there's a pair of dice up here?" – and she acted like she'd just discovered that climbing was her thing. No fear of heights. A little clumsy when it came to pitching small objects, and she wasn't allowed to lug anything heavy. She didn't shy off if she screwed up, either, just picked up where she left off. The chatter dwindled down by the end of the day, but Gaddes could tell she was in good spirits. And not because there was a whole basket of millsbread set aside for her at lunch. In a little while he might be able to inform Milerna of forward progress.

They settled into something of a routine by the fifth morning. There was plenty of calibrating and recording to do, so Celena was enlisted to keep the books. She rolled her eyes at Gaddes when he handed her the quill pen tip-first; by that tacit request, she didn't so much as tap the sharp end of the shaft.

When she ran out of ink, she volunteered to go find some from Allen's desk. She was barely up the stairs before the other guys crowded around Gaddes.

"The Boss'll be back any day now."

"We really gonna sit on this?"

"What if one of the nobles finds out and throws a fit?"

Cornered this time, Gaddes propped the eye-scope on top of his head. "Alright, this was my deal, but Milerna's backing me."

"Does the princess know she's here?"

"...not exactly."

"Yer playin' with fire, scarecrow."

Gaddes sighed. "Yeah, don't I know it. Look at it this way. If Celena gets better, Boss won't have to worry about her. Then maybe he'll stop ridin' our asses."

"I thought that was just me."

"Most of the time, it is just you, Pyle."

"So it ain't the re-fit, huh?"

Gaddes shook his head. It was just as well they knew what he knew. They weren't so loose-lipped as to spill confidential intelligence in the local tavern. "Oh, the re-fit's comin'. Word around the palace is that Lord Dryden came through with the goods from Zaibach."

"Man, Zaibach machinery in our old bird. Boss'll be pullin' his hair out, next!"

"If his little sister gets better, he won't have a reason to."

"And was that your reason, Gaddes?"

They all stiffened, and craned over their shoulders. Celena was standing at the portal. Very deliberately she set down the inkpot and took off Milerna's apron. Her voice was soft, but it was as dangerous-soft as a cut-purse. "I'm going down to the stables, now." With that, she turned on her heel and fled.

For a precious second, Gaddes was rooted to the spot. Then he shoved past the guys. "Fucking damn it!"

"Let her go," someone said.

Hastilty trying to unfasten the eye-scope, Gaddes managed to shoot a glare across the chamber. "Oh yeah? When was the last time you were close enough to a woman to make her mad?"

They erupted, and Gaddes left them laughing. He was sure Celena knew the way. That kind of lost wasn't the one he was fearing.

He caught up to her almost at the stable entrance. When he clapped a hand on her shoulder, there was no recoil or resistance. But her eyes were clear and cold.

"Come on, Celena! I had to tell those guys _something_."

"So you were lying to them?"

"Not... no." Gaddes got down on one knee, holding her by the shoulder like she was a bird threatening to take off. "It's my job to keep 'em in line. We ain't no infantry division. We're a small crew. You know how it is."

Her eyes narrowed. "Somehow I don't think Dilandau kept his team together with his powers of persuasion."

Gaddes's heart sank. "Hey, hey, that's not what I meant! I mean... right now we're a _leviship_ crew. In a fort, there's always a town to go to. And if there ain't no town, merchant tents are always springing up. Even without furloughs, there'd always be someone else to talk to. Up there? There ain't nobody but us. As long as the guymelefs are free to re-supply, we could stay in the air for months. I gotta get those guys pointed in the same direction. Otherwise they're not serving your brother as well as they should."

Her lashes dipped. "I know. I'm sorry..." She backed up and settled on the curb, hands tight on her knees.

Gaddes thumbed the hair from her brow. "What's eatin' you, kid?" Secretly he hoped it wasn't that shot about Dilandau; he wasn't sure how to tackle that quite yet.

"I think Allen suspects that I've been sneaking out." At her words, he held his breath. He hadn't known Allen was back in Palas. Of course a knight of his rank would be involved with all the secret talks, and would be in the middle of them by the time Celena left for the Crusade. "He asked me about forgetting my hat, for the garden, and getting sunburned. I guess I was up in the bridge too long. And he didn't say anything about my hair. I could tell he noticed."

Gaddes swallowed his own trepidation. "No reason for him to be mad at you, for wanting to get well."

She raised her brows at that. "Oh, you know better than that. I love my brother, but he's always been unpredictable. Even we were children." Her fingers laced together over the sash of her dress. "I don't think I have it in me to stay any longer. I want to go back."

"Let's go," he said. He opened his palm.

Slowly she untangled her fingers, and placed them on his. Very properly he led her to the coach. Helped her inside. She sat quietly while he harnessed and checked the horses.

Throwing the reins to a stablehand, Gaddes went over to latch the door. She looked to be asleep.

Nevertheless, Gaddes whispered into the dimness. "Hey, Celena. That ain't the only reason."

She made no reply, but by the change in her breathing, he knew she heard.

* * *

"Allen," Celena said as she dipped a glass pen.

"What is it?"

She didn't look up as he crossed the room. Penmanship was strangely challenging – High Asturian letters had to be just so. Celena preferred drawing figures. And numbers. "Allen, whatever happened to Father's journal?"

"I don't know," he said slowly.

Not quite the truth, but not quite a lie. "Shall I ask the palace archivist?"

"I believe... I loaned it to Princess Milerna. She might have it."

Celena nodded. That meant Lord Dryden had it. Her brother held the funniest grudges.

Fortunately, at the moment she was penning a letter to Lord Dryden. She just hadn't addressed it yet.

Allen looked over her shoulder. Nosy. "Do you miss him?"

"I don't remember him," Celena said honestly. "I remember when the journal came back. Everyone was so excited. Except perhaps Mother. I have some memories of her. She usually sent us out to play, or left us with the servants." She glanced up at Allen, and once more was stunned by how little he had changed. He was just the same as when he was a boy, just in a stronger body and more shadowed eyes. "You are my only past, Brother."

"Mother was ill from time to time. She wanted to– she didn't want you to catch what she had." There was that brittle smile again. They called Allen a heartbreaker wherever he went, but that was the only one that got her, every time.

Those clear eyes turned thoughtful. He said, "I could tell you about them, if you wish. I... don't have many memories myself."

An emotion stirred in Celena; she blinked. _Not_ something to mention to her brother. "Perhaps another day," she said. "I think I shall take mid-morning meal at the cemetery. It's very peaceful there, and I want to plan the garden. If you would," she said hesitantly, "I would rather not be disturbed."

"Very well. I'll send word. Don't stay out too long." He kissed her cheek.

Oh. There was one difference. Allen could conceal his intentions from her now, if he wished. Celena filed this away, along with the dull ache which had been stirred up with her remembrances.

She brought her sketchbook for verisimilitude. In truth she already had two sketches for the garden plan. She just had to decide before the seedlings got too big for their containers.

Gaddes caught sight of her drawings as they set out from the palace. "You did that?"

Suddenly shy, Celena clutched the pages to herself. "Yes. It's all charcoal and chalks."

"They're pretty good," Gaddes said. He peered at them.

Celena realized he was just as nosy as her brother, but for some reason she didn't mind as much. She opened her arms to show him. "Some of them are from books. These ones are from the garden."

"They all look like they're from books. Like the ones scholars are always cartin' around."

"It's easy," she said. She could feel herself start to blush. Why wasn't she flustered when her brother or the princesses or a passing maid complimented her? "I just look at it and copy it. Of course, I still can't draw them in motion. Like in the wind."

Gaddes had a pensive expression. "You picture the whole thing in your head, or just start goin'?"

"I just... start. If I'm... in tune, I don't even think about what my hand is doing." As he checked the horses, she added, "They're not that good."

He tossed a smile over his shoulder. "Yeah they are. Tell me, Celena, you think you could fit the Palas motto on a penza, real-sized?"

"I copied some rubbings of a tenth-gidar." That coin had a lily on it. "I suppose I could do that, with ink."

"Hm," said Gaddes. He seemed to be coming to a decision. As he helped her into the coach, he said, "Well, not everybody can do that."

She was so exceptionally pleased that she didn't bring up her concerns until they were already at the port.

"Do you think we ought to tell my brother?"

"To speak truth, I was waitin' on Princess Milerna. She had some kinda practical test or somethin'. We can stretch it as long as that rumor keeps goin' round that I'm under orders from her. You gettin' a feeling about it?"

Celena shook her head. As long as she was with Gaddes, she never felt like she was outside her brother's protection. The rest of the crew, as well, had a palpable loyalty to their commander which warmed her. It was just the part about telling Allen which gave them pause. She laid her palm on Gaddes's forearm, a pleasant formality for the stroll between the stables and the Crusade. "The ride through town is much better, now. Other than that, I can't tell how much it's helped."

"You feel like gettin' out of bed in the morning?" Gaddes asked.

Celena's eyes half-closed. This morning she had felt the tightness of the body armor, the acrid smell of mechanical fluids and grinding metal. _Brother_. Past and present. Aloud, she said, "I feel like putting my boots on, if that's what you mean."

Gaddes nodded briskly. "Then that's what you say, when we tell him."

How he could make the most daunting prospect into something so simple, she might never understand. It was refreshing.

*

Today they were matching the ship's blueprints with the actual mechanics. Gaddes let himself into the captain's cabin and popped open a secret drawer that Celena had spent days trying to pry. As he withdrew the plans, he caught a glimpse of her astonishment, and smirked. "Teo's got the 'official' schemes we'll be turnin' in to the smiths."

She helped him smooth out the parchment. "I take it these are the authentic plans."

"Yeah. Every knight and captain makes their own personal modifications to their ships. They're the best-kept secrets in every crew."

"Like the flower on the escape hatch."

"You got it. On top of that, there are all kinds of minor repairs done on the fly that usually don't get written down. So, if you're up to it, I've got a big job for you." He presented her with a chalk stylus.

Her eyes widened. "You want me to alter these plans?"

"We all know this ship like the back of our hands. These don't come out but for special occasions. And you," he said brightly, "have the best lining hand of all aboard. There's gonna be spots where we can't do caliper measurements, and your figures are as close to dead-reckoning as we can get. Just look at it and copy it. That's it. We'll show you what to do."

Celena could almost feel her eyes welling up. To leave something of her own work, in her brother's ship, in his living quarters...! There were books and artifacts here which had never been moved, though she knew Allen had been posted far and wide. The Crusade was his second home. "Where are we starting?"

"Here." He glanced over. "Teo will be making his own changes, but the final copies to the smiths' corps are approved by the Boss. He'll be comparing the two."

Oh, that might soften the blow of telling Allen. "I'll make them as exact as I can." It would be tedious but not difficult; it was all following one line to the next, and they would be telling her the lengths. Easier than sketching a rosia.

Gaddes went on. "These plans are top secret. Do me a favor, alright, and don't ask what things are named, or what they do. It's a risk, but I've seen you've got a knack for it, and it's safer than bringing in a mechanic we don't know."

"No problem."

There was a problem, though, and it became apparent with every section they surveyed.

Riden and Katz were looking over the schematic of the new part that was going in the coolant system. "It's not gonna fit, Gaddes. We're gonna have to order up a cut-and-weld."

"Damn it all," Gaddes said, forgetting that Celena was there. "All those pipes are gonna have to be moved. That better not be cutting into the bones."

She was too quick for any of them. On tiptoes, she caught sight of the part in question. "It does fit."

Gaddes sighed. "You're not supposed to see that."

"Sorry. But, really. It does. It's that chamber right there, isn't it?" The guys parted to let her through, and she stuck her hand into the housing before Gaddes could stop her. She returned to the picture of the part. "The top bit there is a valve. Turn it over, towards you? And then, wouldn't a smaller valve..."

"It might work!" crowed Teo.

"It'll be a custom fit."

"But it'll fit, that beats all!"

"Good working, Bean."

Celena wrinkled her nose. "That's a terrible nickname." Just then Gaddes caught her eye. He tapped the schematic of the Zaibach part, and she felt the blood rush to her face as the others joked around.

They took a break not long after. Gaddes sliced some millsbread for her while she sharpened the chalk with her fingernail. "Did ya really read that off the paper?"

"Yes. I'm sorry about that. It's the strangest thing. It's happened before, when there are glosses in some of the books, or symbols I've never seen." Celena rested her chin on her hand. "I don't remember learning it. My tutors probably think the same thing, too. I should be learning my letters. Learning to count. Instead I'm a little behind girls my age, and not by much." She took a big sniff of the millsbread. Home. Her old home, she corrected. "If my last memories are from when I was five, I should be like... those feral wolf children, who get lost in the wastes – they come back and they can't even howl. But I'm not."

Gaddes poured a couple of cups of water, adding in her favorite fruit pieces. "How much of the script do you know?"

"I recognize some words. I couldn't even tell you all the Zaibach alphabet, but sometimes I can read a whole sentence without thinking." Wiping off the chalk on her apron, she dipped her bread and took a big bite. After a comfortable silence, she said, "That must be him, isn't it. Like back belowdecks, he'd seen that part. He didn't know what it was, naturally. He's terribly useless about anything mechanical. So I guess we're still in the clear about my avoiding secrets."

"Unless you read it off the plan," said Gaddes dryly. "I gotta admit, that's still pretty impressive. If that... _he_ didn't know about that part, _you_ were the one who figured out how it worked."

That was an tantalizing detail. She filed that away for safekeeping, among other things. She did so many things without realizing; it was nice to have someone actually point them out. Delicately she tore up her bread. "It's strange to think about it, isn't it? I was gone for ten years. Dilandau must have had a childhood somewhere in there."

Gaddes snorted. "Hope you don't mind my sayin' it, I don't think that guy had any childhood at all."

Celena laughed. "You may be right." It felt good to laugh. "What was your childhood like, Gaddes?"

"Grew up in the country. Like you. We were probably closer to the mountains. It was, ah, rough around the edges." At her raised brows, he said, "I wasn't a first or second son. So I wasn't inheritin' so much as a draft horse. I left home, huh, I must've been a little younger than you are now. I had a cousin with me, though he took off after a while. We did what we could to fill our bellies. Honest work... and not-so-honest." He scratched his head, looking away. "Finally I came down to the city, looking for work. That's when I met your brother."

Celena perked up. "Do tell me more," she said with undisguised eagerness.

Barely suppressing a smirk, Gaddes leaned in. "He was sittin' in a tavern – drinking wine, everybody else had ale – and he told me right there, he was going to be the greatest swordsman in all of Gaia. He was a sure bet then as now, so I thought I'd hitch to his star for a while. Later on, he was the one who convinced me to join up with the service. He helped me out, some, while he was going through the initiations into the Order, so I could get through training. The rest is history."

"You've been his second ever since?"

"Yeah." He laughed, shaking his head at the memory. "I went along with your brother 'cause I thought he'd get me a job. Got me the whole world, instead."

Celena sighed despite herself. "I wish he would show the world to me."

Gaddes sobered. "You know your brother's just lookin' out for you."

"I know. Asturia is beautiful, and there's so much of it I haven't yet seen. But sometimes it's a gilded cage..." She realized how Gaddes's frown was deepening, and snapped out of it. "Or maybe it's just better in the country."

"I'll drink to that," Gaddes said. They raised their cups, smiling. "Nah, you gotta really crash 'em together. Try again."

"But it'll splash all over," Celena laughed.

The cups collided with a satisfying _clack_. "That's how you know you're doin' it right!"

"Hey! What're you two doin' here all cozed up?"

The rest of the crew piled in, a cheerful jumble of noise. Celena scooted to the far end of the bench to make room. It was still a little uncomfortable to be in with such a group, but the sickening lurch of anxiety had been replaced by warm camaraderie. She could tell Allen that, as well.

"Leavin' us with all the work, that's what," Katz said, plopping next to her.

"What're we toastin'? Beanpole saving us three days?"

Celena forgot to object to the nickname. "Three days!"

"Yeah, we're done with the port side, Gaddes. Biggest delay's always the smiths shooting it back for not bein' on-the-line."

"This is as on-the-line as it gets," said Teo, tapping the parchment tube with the blueprints inside.

They were all grinning at her. Celena ducked to hide her smile, and grabbed at the bowls being passed around. Pyle was lighting something on fire, possibly to eat.

"Bullshit," Gaddes said amiably. He didn't watch his language when he was relaxed. "The smiths'll send it back anyway, just to fuck with us."

"So ya didn't answer the question, ya dog. What was the occasion?" Riden traced the rim of a cup, a poorly concealed lewd gesture.

Celena broke into giggles. Riden looked like he'd been caught with his hand in a steel trap, so she felt obliged to save their hides. "I was just asking Gaddes how he met my brother. How did you all meet him?"

They launched into a dozen tales at once. A mix of boasts and affectionate half-truths, with frequent corrections, but how they told of Allen was the same. He was their past and present, too, and they all knew it.

Gaddes seemed content to let them take an extended break, though he curtailed attempts to teach Celena how to deliver toasts like a real sailor. Then lunch was served to a chorus of good-natured complaints. There was a lull as everyone wolfed it down. Celena ate much more slowly than the rest, and she pressed her advantage to extract the real story out of each of them. Some had stuck by Allen since his days in the arena; some had been thrown in with him at the old frontier fort.

The embellishments were more entertaining, though.

"And Ort bet against the Boss. He was so deep in debt, we had to give him a job to pay it off!"

"That ain't a whit true!"

"Oh yeah, so where's the money you owe me?"

"Ya damn bums!"

They burst into laughter, Ort jostling with a couple of guys, and Celena covering her mouth to keep from choking on her bread.

It was at that moment that the door swung open. It was the only person who could sneak up on all of them: Allen Schezar.

*

"What is the meaning of this!"

Gaddes was up and across the room before any of them could open their mouths. "Eeh, Boss, she just needed to be around more people. The guys were behaving themselves. Right, guys?"

There was a cheery chorus. Gaddes was hoping Celena would manage a smile, maybe it would cool off the Boss. But there was silence from her corner.

Allen drew a sharp breath. He'd likely spotted her dirty work apron. "What is she doing here? This is not the proper place for a young lady."

Gaddes didn't know what came over him. "Come on, that never worked on Milerna."

Even when pulling his punches, Allen struck true. There was a meaty thunk; that would be a pretty bruise on Gaddes' cheek for a few days.

The room fell silent.

Slowly, Gaddes pulled himself up, and edged around a little to block Allen's expression from the rest of the room. "Commander. We're your crew. There's nowhere safer in all of Gaia for her. Heck, she even finished a whole bowl of Pyle's stew."

The fog in Allen's eyes began to clear. He peeked over Gaddes's shoulder at his sister. Smirking a bit, Gaddes chanced a look back, and saw Celena was sitting up straighter, not so huddled up in the corner. _Good girl._

"Very well," Allen said in a clipped tone. He turned to leave. "If anything disturbs her, bring her straight back to the castle."

"Aye, Boss!" A swift clap on Gaddes' shoulder, and he knew they were all right.

He prayed to every god in the ocean and sky that Celena was the same.

When he turned around, he saw Celena was a pale statue in the corner, rattled but covering it well. "I'm sorry about that," she said in a flat voice.

Gaddes tapped the nearest guy, who happened to be Pyle, to stop his staring at her. The rest of the guys straightened, or went back to their bowls, or back to staring at his jawbone, which was to be expected. "He's been touchy like that for a while," Gaddes offered. There were murmurs of agreement around the table. "It's not just you."

"Yeah, ever since Hitomi left," Riden said out of the blue. Gaddes winced. Of all times for that gutter-for-brains to blurt something out. "What? He talks 'bout her sometimes, he doesn't about the others."

To kick it downhill, Teo chimed in, "Maybe he's in love."

"Hitomi?" Celena leaned forward, her whole countenance shifting like light over water. "That's the girl from the Mystic Moon, isn't that right?" When they all confirmed it, she said, "I doubt that's it."

Gaddes was starting to get that unsettled, up-ended feeling again. He realized her hands were on her lap, and probably clenched. "We're just shootin' breeze, Celena. We don't mean to make you rat out your brother."

Celena's skin still bloomed hot with high emotion. Yet her voice remained even and distant. "Don't be silly. You guys would know better than I would, if Allen were really in love. Otherwise, that girl – she told the future. Maybe he wanted something from her, and didn't get the chance to ask."

"She was dead-accurate with those cards."

"Yeah, the Boss swore by it. Never would've believed it if I didn't see it with my own eyes."

Gaddes's face was beginning to throb. Something about this was off. Something about the way she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand...

"Maybe," she said, "he just wants to know what the future will hold. Uncertainty can make people do odd things."

Casually, Gaddes caught Ort's wrist before he could toss another knife. Ort put it away without so much as a backward glance. Hitomi had been around Celena's age, and she'd been an open book for all to read. A whole library, even. Gaddes couldn't so much as crack the cover on Celena. "You want me to take you back?" he said.

"Brother's still on board, isn't he? I'll ride home with him. Besides," she said, face softening, "we still have the starboard side to do, right?"

Oh. Maybe she was just pissed at her brother. "Yeah, let's pack it up, fellas. We've been dawdling long enough," he said.

Celena got up to clear the table. "There is one thing that's certain," she told them. "He's lucky to have all of you."

*

The work calmed her down, some. It was like losing herself in the garden: seeing one task, picking out what needed doing first, following that line to the next, and the next, and the next. The difference was she was working alongside the rest of the crew. So she really was making progress.

Allen wasn't going to hear about any of it. Not today.

The sun was hanging low when she made her way to the captain's cabin. She didn't knock.

As expected, Allen was gazing out the window. Brooding again. He turned on his heel, and made to go to her. "Celena," he said.

She crossed the room to the window, pulling off the apron. He looked alarmed as she unlocked and unlatched the porthole, but it was only to shake out the garment. The breeze was starting to blow out to sea.

Allen went to his knees and stopped her before she could get past him again. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I should not have lost my temper, least of all in front of you."

Celena rolled her eyes. "Oh, do get up. I'm your sister, not some high noblewoman. And it's none of my concern how you manage your crew." She pulled away from him, and went to the locker to put away the apron and gloves. The metal fittings were cool to the touch. "What are you so afraid of, Brother? That I'll stop being a girl because I'm doing boys' work? That I'll choose _him_ over you?" She shut the door. Behind her, she could hear Allen getting to his feet.

She didn't turn around. "You forget," she said, "I had to live with Dilandau taking everything from me, from a very young age. I hate him with every fiber of my being." She swallowed, trying to push down the ball of emotions threatening to burst out. "I'm not going to take up a sword and bathe it in blood, or whatever it is you boys do."

Allen's hands came to rest on her shoulders. She was trembling but she didn't care. "Little sister," he said. "Don't waste yourself on him, anymore. Let me take that burden from you."

Oh, Allen. Understanding and yet... not. Celena turned around, clasping her brother's hands.

"When you struck Gaddes, _he_ almost woke up."

 _Don't be so cruel to your brother_. Yet the horror in Allen's eyes was exactly what she wanted. And it was the truth. It had been the sound of the strike, jarring, so palpable that she almost felt the impact up and down her arm. The sensation had lasted only a moment, but she knew what had happened – that it was Not Her. If it came to it, she would tell Allen that part, if only to get through to him.

She said, "Like calls to like. Don't become everything I loathe, my brother. Then I really might not be able to forgive you. And right now, you are everything I have."

They embraced, not speaking. Sometimes she wondered what had happened to the brother she knew before, and the man that he was now. It was beginning to dawn on her that he was that way because she hadn't been there. Because with every loss, his whole world had been plunged deeper into uncertainty. That was guilt she would carry for all time, no matter what he said.

Well, she was here now. She would not fail him now, even if it meant hurting him.

She thought, as she exhaled, that the last piece she'd said was a lie. But it was what he needed to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ##### Notes from Gaia
> 
>   
>  Thanks to Diana for helping me check some of the details. According to online resources, e.g. the Escaflowne Wiki, and the Compendium: a _costa_ is about 0.987 meters, and a _miet_ is the equivalent of 30 seconds. I transcribed _Gaia_ , _piscus_ , and _Jechia_ (Jeture) as I heard them; changed to _gidar_ from "gidaru", and  yes, changed it to _Destiny Resonator_ ; and my educated guess is that "Moon" is the convergence of the two moons i.e. the day rather than the month.  
> Personalities of the Crusade ensemble are a total guess from a patchy memory. I went with _Riden_ instead of "Reeden" and _Yspano_ for the aesthetics. As much as it bothers me, I went with _Scherazade_ instead. Spelling "Millerna" with two L's was considered, but I'm still ankles-deep in Gundam Wing associations, so my apologies if that's your preferred spelling. I deliberately violated style guidelines by not capitalizing _majesty_... I still don't know why, besides feeling too formal for the characters. And if you want to hear "Nii-san" for every _Brother_ , and "-sama" for every _Lord_ , that's up to you. ^_~ 


	2. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The embers fly: Celena's dreams are coming true. But will it take a vision to be rid of Dilandau?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See [foreword](http://archiveofourown.org/works/295045/chapters/472146#main) for labels and disclaimers. Unauthorized duplication and distribution is prohibited.

"I don't need any help, thank you." Celena fought the urge to roll her eyes. She set down a pile of seedlings, frowning as her guard practically dropped his bundle on the stones. "Hortiz, that's enough, really. Did my brother yell at you or something?"

"No, Miss."

"If he does, tell me at your convenience. All right? Just sit over there. Please." The palace keepers had already done all the hard work of turning the soil over. After that, it wasn't that difficult to put seedlings into the ground.

Celena surveyed her plots. Princess Eries had gifted her with this private courtyard sheltered from the wind and touched with just the right amount of sun. Last season she had only harvested the fruits and flowers. This year she could plant whatever she liked.

She was laying out the seedlings in a soft curve around the pome tree when she heard someone approaching on the arcade. Hortiz was immediately on alert, but she waved him down. "Gaddes," she greeted.

"Good morning, Celena." He grinned, propping a shoulder on a column as he took in the scene. "This is a huge garden. You got your work cut out for ya."

"It's not nearly as big as the promenades or the walled gardens." She tipped her hat brim up to get a better view. He was clean-shaven and neatly turned out. So the leviship inspections were still going on. She wondered what they'd make of his faintly coloring bruise. It bothered her less than she expected, and added to his rakish air. "I'm still putting seedlings in, and some of the bulbs are on their first bloom already. That's all right, though–they'll catch up. Come on and look around. The stones are all swept up, you can't get mud on your boots."

"Just the one guard, huh?" Gaddes murmured.

Celena got the feeling he was thinking about how to take him out. "Brother relented. At least inside the palace. I'm afraid if we want to go elsewhere, we'll need an escort."

"Ah. Maybe another day. The official types are still goin' through the place. You know – general inspection."

"Tossing everyone's bunks?"

Gaddes's eyelid shivered. "Yup. The guys miss having you around."

"Tell them I miss their company, too."

"Well, uh," and Celena watched in fascination as he patted his pockets, growing more abashed by the second. "We all chipped in and got you a little somethin'."

"Oh," she said. It was a small wooden disc, no bigger than the palm of her hand, with a string looped through two holes in its center. "Oh, I think I've seen this. They sold them at carnivals and fairs. It's like a whirler. It's heavy, though." She suspended the painted disc between her hands, and began to twirl it. A little tug set it spinning – and crackling like a small firepopper.

"Told 'em it was too loud," mumbled Gaddes. "You can make it quieter."

"It's wonderful. How does it make that sound?"

Gaddes caught it in a pinch, squeezing a couple of catches on the sides opposite the string-holes. "It's what's inside. Cup your hand under it. Just twist it open, careful you don't tangle it up."

Into Celena's hand dropped four small marbles, and one larger one. "It's a toy in a toy." She laughed, delighted. The smaller marbles looked like sea-glass, catching the light as she rolled them in her palm.

"It's called a cat's rattle where I'm from. Legend has it the horse men invented it. Something for the kids to play with while they were climbing around the mountains. And if they ever got to flat ground, they could shoot some marbles. I know you're a little too old for that, but..." He watched her pop the marbles back into their chambers. "You've never seen that before?"

Celena shook her head. "I... know what it is. So I must have seen it. But I was probably too young for a toy like this, and Allen was too old. Gaddes, it's great. I can take it anywhere, too. Tell the fellows I love it, and thank them for me, please."

"Sure." That mischievous look grew on his face again. "What was Allen playin' with?"

"Swords, of course." They shared a laugh. "When I was a really little baby, I would cry and cry when he'd leave to play with his friends. I remember peeking out the window while they did their best to hit each other." She could still hear the dull thwack of wood against wood. She held up the disc, studying its swirling colors. "It does remind me of our old home."

Gaddes scratched his head. "Aw, I didn't mean to make you sad."

"I'm not. I've got my brother, now. And..." One memory lead to another – there it was again. That ache. The sting of it bit deeper the more she thought of it. But she didn't want to trouble anyone with such things.

So what was she going to do? Keep silent until she could think of nothing else? She looked up at Gaddes waiting patiently before her, standing tall in the sunlight. _You have someone to tell._ Picking at it while everyone else was on the Crusade wasn't going to do any good. With that, Celena glanced back at the guard. Tugging Gaddes by the elbow, she pocketed the whirler and lead him to the sunken section by the wall fountain. "There's something that's been bothering me lately. I can't tell my brother about it. Nor the princesses."

"No point bottling it up," Gaddes said, though he was flinching. Braced for the worst. "I'll keep it to myself, if you want me to."

She was scaring him again, but there was nothing for it. "I just need for you to tell me plainly if... I'm a terrible person for feeling like this. You see, I've been trying to figure out what happened to us. What happened to our family. And the more I dig up, the more I feel angry–" She took a breath. "–at my mother. For giving up. For leaving Allen alone, when he needed her." It was that last part that really burned her. And yet. "Gaddes, she died. I shouldn't hate her for _dying_."

"Hey." His hands were warm on her shoulders, his smile warm before her face. "Did you hate her, or did you hate her for leaving?"

"I... I just keep thinking if only she hadn't given up, we would all be together." A family. Not that she and Allen weren't a family, but so many things could-have-been had Mother lived.

Gaddes shrugged. "Then you loved her." He gave one of those firm nods, and straightened. "I hate to say it: in our business, lots of people die. You always hate 'em a little bit for leaving you behind. But that's 'cause you miss 'em. It's normal, Celena. Trust me." He squeezed her shoulder gently.

It was like being able to breathe again. The memory still carried its sting, but it was easier to hold. "Oh, Gaddes. Thank you." She wanted to throw her arms around him, but that guard would likely report that to his superiors. "I just couldn't let go of it. Imagine if she'd lived! How different Allen would be now."

Gaddes blinked. "I gotta say, Celena, I can't imagine the Boss different from how he is. Maybe he'd be a lot less of a pain in the ass..."

Celena stifled a laugh. "I doubt that. He'd be less sad, though."

"Hey," he said cautiously. "Things alright between you two?"

"As good as they can be. He's my brother; I have to be patient with him, sometimes." She took a cleansing breath, smelling the faint mossy mist from the fountain, the scents of the flowers, the sea, and Gaddes standing close. "I never properly thanked you for what you've done for me, these past few days."

"You did all the work. It was pretty good work, too."

"I didn't know where to start. Not until you nudged me along."

"That's always the hardest part." Gaddes tipped his head up, checking the position of the sun. "Hey, kid. I gotta go. Your brother told me you can come back on board once the high-and-mighties are through. So I guess you'd better finish up your planting, huh?"

He moved away, and she was out of his shade. The sunlight hit her face. Through the glare, she watched him leave, aware that she hadn't stopped smiling.

* * *

The sun was shining on a strangely flat sea. The only hint of movement were the scintillae of light bouncing off each dark wave.

Then the waves turned into wakes, and light was splashing in her eyes, and gradually she realized there was something in the water with her–

Celena opened her eyes. The only light in the room was a single candle by the window. Its light played over a fall of golden hair; Allen was reading there.

"Brother," she said.

Instantly he came to attention. "Celena. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

She shook her head. She sat up, trying to clear the fog in her head.

Gradually Allen sat back. "It's early." He sounded a bit wry.

"It's late," she countered. "I was dreaming." The remnants of the dream were fading quickly, but she could still feel that undertow. "Not _that_ dream. I was on a cliff, going jumping like those islanders do for their fishing festivals. I think I saw a sea-serpent in the water. Except I was suddenly in the water. The foam-tops on the waves were rustling, loud."

Allen tilted his head. "Maybe it was Jechia. The sailors say that's a good omen."

"Does that omen count for leviships?" She smiled, kicking off the bedcovers. "What are you doing up so late?"

He looked like he wanted to hide what he was doing, but she was at his side in no time. "Going over blueprints."

"Oh. The re-fit." She leaned over him and traced the lines of the Crusade. Names of chambers and mechanisms sprang to mind, though only some were labeled on the paper.

"Where did you hear about that?" He was trying to hide the edge in his voice.

She said, lightly, "You should probably know: your crew is not immune to a cute little girl asking questions. Don't worry!" She flicked at his nose, and he pretended to wince. "There isn't anything improper about it. And I won't tell anyone the details."

He turned around, coiling an arm around her waist. "Celena, do you really like working with them?"

"Oh yes! It's nice to work by myself, but it's also nice to work in a team." Just in time, she bit her tongue over the words _like I used to_. That was not for Allen's ears. She tried to blink away the sleepiness. "I know it's just little jobs here and there. It's still a good feeling to belong."

"I just don't want you to get too caught up with it. They're a professional crew; you can leave some of those jobs to them."

"I'm learning a lot," Celena began, but by the look on his face, she immediately saw this was the wrong answer. Never mind that – impulsively she threw her arms around his neck. "Do you want to know the real reason?"

"If you'll tell me," said Allen, in his expecting-the-worst voice.

She laughed despite herself. Whispering in his ear, she said, "Whenever you leave, wherever you go, as long as you have the Crusade you will have a piece of me with you. That way we won't ever be apart."

Allen embraced her tightly. "I'll never leave you, Celena."

"Liar," she said lightly. She twisted, and tapped the blueprints with her finger. "You'll have a shakedown voyage after the re-fit is done. To test everything. What are you going to do, quit the Knights Caeli and never go anywhere?"

"I could, if you wanted me to."

Typical Allen. Celena raised her chin as the nobles always did. "I forbid it. It would be wrong of me to stop you from doing what you do best." She did a proper curtsy with discernible irony, and turned around to go back to bed.

Until the next dream.

* * *

The compromise over her schedule was simple enough: mornings in the garden, lunch on board the Crusade, an afternoon of maintenance with the crew, then going home with Allen for the evening meal and lessons. Though they were always finished well before sunset, Allen was concerned that she was doing too much, particularly given their early rising.

Celena loved it. It wasn't a window thrown open to the world, but she felt like she could spread out over more territory. She found a couple of study partners from among Princess Milerna's friends. She made the acquaintance of a royal cook, who at all hours fed her delicious morsels from all over Asturia's trade routes. The royal archivist, who had been afraid of her, was even looking forward to her visits. As soon as she started to talk, she found she could fill in whatever doubts the other person was harboring. It hadn't previously occurred to her that she could charm someone else into treating her normally, rather than feeling altogether not-normal.

There were still people who stared at her and whispered behind their hands. Celena found it was easier to ignore them if she had something to do. She could feel a scream coming on, this time, could feel its roots plunging down from her heart and then back out her throat. If she could stop it, grab it, take a breath – one step at a time, she could be more herself.

That was the plan.

The nearer the date of the re-fit, the more restrictions were heaped in her direction. Different areas of the ship were placed off-limits. A few of the new parts were delivered, and some were locked up before she could see them. Allen and Gaddes and the others had frequent, if brief, closed-door meetings to plan the work ahead. Celena stayed wherever they put her, sketching or reading when outsiders were aboard, spinning the cat's rattle when they were not.

She thought Allen's uneasiness stemmed from the source of these restrictions. Until she and Teo caused a scene, one day.

They were surveying a chamber where a new condenser was to be placed. "No fooling, 'lena, it won't fit! Those gauges can't be moved."

"So you'll put a hole in the floor?" She snapped open the blueprint she had in hand. "Look, you'll have to cut through the hydraulics below it. You're rerouting all of that?"

"Ain't nothin' else for it, I'm tellin' ya!"

In the corner of her eye, she could see Gaddes crossing from the opposite chamber. Quickly, she said, "I'm only saying: it only has to be level. It doesn't have to be flush to the wall, and besides if it is, the moment something hits this side of the ship, you'll lose altitude control in the bridge. I've seen it hung from the ceiling with no problem."

Teo raised his eyebrows, then raised his finger to either agree or ask a question. Just then, Allen's voice carried across the main chamber.

"Celena. That's enough."

"But–!" Celena whirled around to see her brother watching from walkway above. His grip on the railing was very tight. "Till later, Teo." She rolled up the blueprint carefully and handed it over.

Allen turned around and headed towards quarters. Celena fell in step beside him. "Are you going to tell me what that was about, or do I have to guess?" she said.

"I don't want you working with the Zaibach machinery."

But that was the most interesting part...! Celena clamped off her objections. "Very well."

"We can stay on the bridge, for now," said Allen, rather less severely. "I'll show you how to draw up the navigation charts."

Try as she might, she could not read his expression. Her annoyance dissolved into confusion. He seemed almost disturbed by what he'd just seen. "I promise I won't argue with your crew again."

"Unlikely," Allen said with a smile. "But I appreciate the sentiment. You put them in a difficult position, sometimes."

"I don't mean to. I just– They're my friends."

Allen tossed his hair from his shoulder. A bit of a nervous habit. "By ourselves, we don't stand on much ceremony. In Asturia, though, there's a lot of weight placed on it. Just be mindful, Celena. I'd like you to stay on the bridge, or in my cabin, at least until all the large pieces are set in place. Let the men do their work."

Celena knew it was misdirection as soon as she heard it, but the look in Allen's eyes told her it wasn't worth fighting him. Certainly not on his own ship.

The navigation charts were actually quite interesting. She and Allen pored over them until the sun set. She even got him to describe one of his daring escapes. Allen never talked about strategy with her, and she smiled to watch his eyes light up as he described one tactic or another, over seas, through mountain passes, thousands of costas in the air. He truly was a superior strategist. It was like learning from a master. She was proud of him, and she told him so.

However, these tales only fueled her suspicions. Allen had always been steadfast in avoiding the mention of war in her presence. Granted, the adventures in question had succeeded without any bloodshed; the details were relatively benign. As he spoke, Celena found herself going back to the exchange with Teo. What had happened back there to perturb Allen so?

It was Natal who saved her from further wondering. The owl swooped in from an open window, a message clutched in its claws.

"Ah. I was waiting for this. Excuse me, Celena." He kissed her brow as he left.

Not ten miet later, as she cleared off the charts, Gaddes popped in. "Hey. You alright?"

"He doesn't want me working on any of the re-fit," Celena said, bewildered.

Gaddes looked resigned. "Yeah, I figured."

"Do you know why he's suddenly forbidden me from helping? Gaddes, it doesn't make any sense." Anxiety was leaking into her voice.

He grimaced for a moment, then let out a sigh. Beckoning her to follow, he said, "That's gonna bother you all the day, huh. I probably shouldn't show you this..."

She wrapped her hand over his wrist. "But you are, anyway."

"You are gonna get me into so much trouble."

"Oh, you're just Gaddes. Who would kick your ass?"

He shook his head. "Ha, ha. You ready to see something from Before?"

"Sure," she said. "If I scream, just cover my mouth. I'll be all right in a few seconds."

He stopped in his tracks. "When you say somethin' like that– Yeah, I get it. You're used to it."

She was afraid of a lot of things, but she wasn't afraid of her fits. The look on Gaddes's face reminded her why she was tired of them, though. "I trust you. And believe me, I've probably seen worse. Show me."

They slid down the narrow ladders and through a hatch to the hangar bay. Gaddes flipped on the auxiliary lights, opening up a view of the cavernous space and its gigantic occupant.

Standing guard in its nets and harnesses was... "Scherazade," breathed Celena. "Oh. That's a proper knight's 'melef." She could feel Gaddes's gaze on her. "She's beautiful."

They both spoke in a hush. "How d'you know it's a woman?"

Celena cast a smile over her shoulder. "My brother, and women," she replied. "Even the owl is female."

Gaddes laughed, and relaxed a little.

Carefully she lifted its cape. The armor gleamed in the low light. The sword was polished to mirrors, its edge paper-sharp. No sign of the nicks she knew had been there before.

And suddenly she could smell the sweat and roiling metal and the sickly-sweet chemical fumes, and hear the clash of swords. The sensations were vivid yet distant, as though there was only the feeling of a battle, and none of the blood and fire she knew had come with it. She climbed some scaffolding to get closer. Gaddes was at her side at once. He braced her as she leaned to touch its armored chest.

"You've repaired it all," she said softly. The smooth metal was cool but not cold. "He was hit here... and here." Her fingers brushed an energist. "You can't even see it. And. Oh," she said, pressing her palm over the breastplate.

 _Claws snaked out from mechanical arms, but were deflected, careening, momentum propelling them toward a tiny figure until someone stepped in front, and the metal jerked as they punched–_ "Right here. There was a hole here." She turned her head. She could barely see Gaddes's face, though he was close enough for his breaths to touch her cheek. "But that means..." Celena stood up straight, staring at the cage in which her brother operated his guymelef. She knew exactly how tall he was in the seat, and if that was so– "How did he survive?" she whispered.

"...almost didn't."

Gaddes caught her as she buried her face against him. No sound was coming out. No tears, though her hands were trembling. Gently he stroked her back. "Damn it," he said. "I shouldn't have brought you here. Didn't think it all the way through."

When she found her voice again, it was as hoarse as though she really had screamed. "No. I had to see it. He couldn't hide Scherazade from me forever." She tried to stand on her own power, leaning heavily on Gaddes.

"That's why he doesn't want you to see anything from Zaibach." He helped her down, his arm around her waist. She found his hand there and clutched it. "I'm sorry, kid. This was a mistake."

"It's all right." Amidst the sorrow and terror, she was surprised to find that it truly was, that she could still breathe. She was still here. She would not let Dilandau win this. "He _didn't_ kill Allen. And Allen didn't kill him."

 _That will be my task._

She gulped air. Breathed deeply. "We both survived. We're here now. That's all that matters." Unable or unwilling to let go of his hand, she walked back up to her brother's guymelef. She brushed the flat of its sword, then carefully pulled the cape over it. "Let's go."

As he stopped to turn off the lights, Celena tugged at his hand. "Huh?" he said.

"I meant it," she said. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. I knew which hold this was. I stepped inside with my eyes open. Just... take care of her. So she can take care of my brother."

In the dark, she thought she felt the wiry prickle of his stubble brushing her cheek. "Took that oath a long time ago. She's in good hands."

They opened the hatch, emerging into the light of the watch-lanterns. Out the portholes, the gloaming spread its cloak over the mountains, where legends said the giants slept.

* * *

With the re-fit in full swing, Celena decided to spend less time on the Crusade, which meant more time in the palace. It was the run-up to the big spring festivals. Celena had always associated festivals with lots of food and dancing, but it was ridiculously baroque in the palace. There were all sorts of court games, and formal tastings, and a parade of performers, and fashionable re-tellings of legends she was sure she'd never heard in a church. For the most part, she retreated to the garden, or watched half of Asturia attempt to flirt with her brother. The former was restful; the latter was amusing.

The amusements required a bit of preparation. Celena only went to the smaller gatherings, which meant everything she wore had to be that much more meticulous. Princess Milerna tried to foist half her wardrobe on her, but Celena fended her off by picking one simple, albeit expensively embroidered dress for every event. This earned her unexpected praise from Princess Eries. At least until she realized Allen had gifted Celena with a different set of jewelry for every event.

Celena saw no harm in letting her brother try to indulge her. She was more interested in the history of every bauble, and whether she could fiddle with it whenever she was bored. "Be mysterious and sit in the corner, if you like," Allen said to her one evening. "They'll flock to you."

"Let me guess. For the novelty? So when they tire of me, they'll go away again, right?" she said hopefully.

Allen strung a necklace of sea-green and lapis around her neck. "You can send them away if you wish, dear sister. Just don't give yourself away. At least, not without telling me first." He smiled at her in the mirror. "You've accepted a lot of invitations this season. Are you sure you're not over-exerting yourself?"

"I bow out early. And you look so harried by these silly affairs, I thought I would come along in case you needed rescuing."

In truth, the appeal for her was in the gossip. A little vino in her glass, enough to put color in her cheeks, and she could charm a story out of almost anyone. They either thought she was Allen's dim little sister, or some kind of monstrous curiosity. And either way, they told her things no one else would dare mention at a royal event. Sometimes those tidbits made up for the whole ordeal.

It was so strange: as long as she was staring at them, she could tolerate all of them staring at her.

...to a point. Once she entered a room, she always plotted out the best corner to hide from the largest number of eyes. That bright stage was better left to Allen. She was also saved by some of her new acquaintances, who would find her and drag her along to meet new groups of people, or make excuses whenever she needed a breath of fresh air. They informed her of some of the social details not covered in Princess Eries' training – some of it silly, some of it beautiful, all of it useful in reducing the number of strangers who might increase her agitation. They couldn't be strange if she got to know them, after all. Celena rather liked that arithmetic.

Months ago she would never have dreamed she could navigate such a social fracas. She was beginning to see how her brother did it. She had wondered how she was going to talk to people with whom she did not get along, until she realized she didn't actually have to get along with them. Just smile. Seem mysterious. Look like a Schezar.

Then, inevitably, some high and powerful Asturian nobles would draw Allen into some private conference, and she would take her leave. Having memorized a map of the castle, she would kick off her shoes and tiptoe through the seldom-used hallways, perhaps stop by her garden to smell the night-bloomers, and then make her way to Gaddes's room.

He always greeted her the same way. "Oh, it's you again."

"Hello, Gaddes. Are you going to let me in?"

"Guess so," he sighed. He had a carafe of juice ready, and poured her some. They tapped their cups together as she sank into some pillows and laundry bags piled on the floor. Gaddes took the bed. "What is it tonight?"

"Oh, let's see." Celena held up her necklace. "Daedali, though I think the chain is Egzardic."

"That'll fetch a good price."

Celena dropped the stones and drank her juice. She wasn't sure if Allen knew she was selling the necklaces, and giving the money to orphanages. He wouldn't be offended, she was sure. The earrings she set aside as keepsakes of her brother. To wake up after ten years and still have pierced ears was a talisman too precious to abandon.

"Have you ever been to Egzardia?" She'd ask. Or Cesario. Or Freid. And Gaddes would spin her a tale or two about that land while she sipped her juice.

She liked this game much better than the frolics going on downstairs.

"Why do you always ask," Gaddes said, as the evening stretched. "It's drivin' you n– to distraction."

"You sure you want the answer?"

"You're in my room, unescorted, drinkin' my drinks," he grumbled. "Before I know it, you're gonna ask for a haircut. Why not."

Reminded, she poured herself some more, then passed the carafe to Gaddes. It was hellish trying to garden in the early morning with a hangover. "...Dilandau never paid attention to all the beautiful places in Gaia. He didn't leave me any clear memories. Except of their destruction." She flopped back on the pile, then turned her head to look up and out the window. "At least he didn't destroy everything, so I can still see those places, someday."

Gaddes sat up a little. "You're jealous," he said wonderingly.

"My brother," she said, "is the greatest swordsman in all of Gaia. I know from the chronicles that Dilandau took him on, several times. He never outright won, of course, but he lasted. How many opponents do you know who've done that? More than once? And I... can barely lift a bundle of wood. Much less a sword."

"Stick to the wood," said Gaddes. "You can get stronger, Celena. You're stronger now than last winter. You ought to. That garden of yours is gonna get bigger, and unless you let the servants at it–"

"Oh, no."

"–you're gonna be on your own, tending it."

The Crusade would have to leave port sooner or later. She'd heard rumors that there would be other diplomatic missions wrapped up with the shakedown voyage, as well, so it might be a month or more left to her own devices. "Would you prune the hardy plants when you get back?" She made little snips with her fingers.

"That's all I am to you, huh," said Gaddes with a half-smile. "Yeah, sure. You bring the drinks."

"It's a deal."

"Y'know," he said seriously. "You shouldn't be so jealous of him."

Dilandau was only good for taking lives and breaking things. With any measure of objectivity, after the horror came the pity. "I know. He's pathetic. He didn't deserve all that strength. It's just that Allen wants to clean up after all the things he did. One day, I want to be strong enough to do that myself."

"Yeah, I mean... Celena. You're more than Dilandau could ever be."

She looked away, digging her toes into the pillows – perhaps missing the expression on his face. "To speak truth," she said. "I come here to gloat. I have all this, and he has nothing. Isn't that terrible?"

"Gloating looks good on you," said Gaddes. "So does sleep. C'mon, you'd better go back." He helped her to her feet.

"Good night, Gaddes."

He leaned on the doorframe. "Go straight back, Celena, alright? I'll see ya tomorrow."

She turned to walk backwards, gave him a wave, and was gone around the corner.

*

Celena pattered down the hallway, shoes in hand, out of the common quarters and toward the royal wings. She was almost to her destination when she caught sight of a white-clothed figure sitting in a corner alcove.

She stopped in her tracks. "Princess Eries," she said.

"Child, what are you doing out alone at this hour?"

Celena was unsurprised to see her brother emerge from the opposite corner. "I was just–" _coming from seeing Gaddes_ , she thought, as she caught Allen's meaningful look, "–going back to our rooms." She clutched her shoes, not knowing whether it was more improper to put them on than leave them off.

"You can't be seen wandering around the castle by yourself. People must not be given any reason to start malicious rumors." Eries glanced at Allen. For the first time, Celena noticed how tightly she clenched her hands. "Your forays to the Crusade were unwise enough."

The apology on the tip of her tongue dissolved. "Your majesty," Celena said carefully, "What do you mean by 'unwise'?" She had expected 'improper' or 'rash', but not that. Her heart was beating faster.

Allen was live to it, as well. "Eries," he said questioningly.

"This is not for your ears, Celena," said Eries, looking from one to the other.

"No, please. Tell me. I've been in the dark too long." Boldly, Celena stepped forward, and curtsied as deep as she could. "If it concerns me, I must know." When she rose, Allen was at her side, his hand light on her shoulder.

Eries looked genuinely torn. After a whole miet, she said, "There is talk. Among the high council, and some of the nobility. They believe that your medicines are not truly working." Her gaze shifted to Allen, and there was a flash of anguish. "That it's all a sham."

Celena could feel her ears burning. Bits of gossip came back to her, and began to make sense. "That's not true! I give you my word, he is sleeping. And even if somehow he were to wake up, he's as weak as a babe. He can't hurt anyone, anymore!"

"To some people, even the word of a knight means nothing," said Allen, his voice hard. "Is there nothing to be done about this treacherous rumor?"

"Sooner or later, it will become a military matter. You can appeal to those of your own Order. And if you can induce Lord Dryden to return to the capital, he will have some sway over his father, and his fellow merchants. I have yet to tell Milerna. She will be furious, and I pray that she will not act rashly." Eries wrung her hands. "You must be more careful. Both of you are reckless, in your own ways."

" _No_ ," said Allen. "Her recovery has been trying enough. Now she must prove it to everyone else? After being taken away from us, and then being ill for so long after her return? She is just now beginning to blossom again. I will do everything in my power to help her heal." He paused. He was squeezing Celena's shoulder but it seemed her only point of support. She placed her hand over his. "Eries," he said at last. "I have not forgotten my oaths."

"Nor have I," said Eries. "I promised to watch over her. I will do what I can." With the delicate bow, she made to leave.

"Princess Eries," Celena spoke up. "Thank you."

Eries cast a glance over her shoulder. "Be well, Celena. Sir Allen."

Celena felt the tension bleed out of her. She turned to lean her head on Allen's shoulder.

"How can he be gone, and yet still ruining our lives?" she said.

Allen stroked her hair. "I'm sorry, Celena. I thought I was giving you more freedom..."

She sprang away, towing him to their door, and inside. She tossed her shoes and splashed water on her face, emptying that bowl into a flower vase. "Eries is right, though. We have been careless." She drifted over to the chair where Allen had thrown himself. At her touch, he undid his grip on its arm, and she took his hand. "Perhaps it is time for a tactical retreat."

"You've been reading too many books," Allen remarked.

"No such thing. And most of those books are about you."

Allen twitched a smile, then grew more grave. "The shakedown voyage will take us away from Palas for weeks. It's a risk to take you along, but it may be even more of a risk to leave you here."

"If the Crusade takes off with me aboard, they might not let us come back. Don't worry. I have my own allies here. And," Celena bent to whisper, "I know the garden Eries gave me has more than two exits."

"Does it, now."

"It's funny what they put in the old blueprints. By the time you leave, I'll be ready for whatever is in store. The future is always uncertain. No sense in being unprepared." She rose in a swirl of skirts. "And don't worry about Lord Dryden, either. He _is_ coming to the capital."

"How do you know that? There's been no word."

"Because he wrote me and told me." Celena held back her smile. "He can be absent-minded about things like that."

"I'll speak with him. I'll leave Natal with you," Allen called after her.

She placed her earrings in their gilded box. A wave of sadness began to wash over her. The Crusade would be gone, and with it so many dear to her heart. "Brother." She leaned out her doorway. "Would you grant me a favor? When you leave, fly over the castle, so I can say goodbye?"

"Of course. Sweet Celena."

*

They blew out the lamps early, but they did not sleep for hours. The two moons cast harsh shadows on the walls.

Celena stared at the ceiling. The notion was so vexing that she went back in her mind and reviewed every step she'd taken, every conversation with Gaddes, with Allen, every diversion which had caught her fancy. All the books she'd read. All the new mechanisms she'd learned about. It was in some ways horrifically possible. A sleeper agent was a very Zaibach' thing to do.

She had felt so buoyant an hour ago; and yet here she was, waiting to fall sleep so she could relive the same dream, as fettered as when she first came back to herself.

And was she, really?

Was it her emerging from that red guymelef?

 _Yes. I don't know how I know, just that I do._

Then why did the dream never change...?

She spoke into the silence. "Allen. I may not have lived many years, or seen many things, but I don't think you can give freedom to someone else."

His voice floated out from the darkness. To hear it was a comfort.

"Mm. Sometimes it's not yours to give."

* * *

Celena wasn't sure how the crew found out about it, but when she cut through the porpoise fountains after a morning of gardening, she found them crowded around Allen. She changed course to see what they were all doing in the shadows of the colonnade.

"We can't just leave her here, Boss," Riden was saying.

Gaddes spotted her. "Celena."

"Gaddes," she said automatically. "Everyone. What's the occasion?"

"We heard about those lies!"

"Damned nobles messin' with everyone. You of all people!"

"Keep your voices down," said Allen.

"Boss, she could come with us till it cools off. Right?"

"I can't go," she interjected. "That would raise even more suspicions. And besides, if I leave with you on the Crusade, I'll miss Lord Dryden returning." She caught Allen twitching. "Oh, stop that. He's been doing research on my behalf. He took an interest in my case. Maybe he'll have answers this time."

"It's a shakedown trip," said Gaddes with a note of regret. "Might not be safe to take her with us, anyway."

Celena suppressed a chill at the mention of possible danger. Some of the Crusade had been tested, but they would all be going– she shook the thought away.

"It's crazy, either way. Haven't they met her? Don't they know her better than that?"

"You don't," said Celena. "No one can. All you have is my word that Dilandau isn't here anymore. The medicines help remove the effect on my body, so there's no sign to look for, you see." She held their gazes, one man to the next. " _I can't run away._ Those medicines come through Asturia. They come of Allen being a Knight. If I leave..."

Her brother said flatly, "We don't know enough to predict what might happen."

She nodded. "At the end, the trouble's really Zaibach. They tried anything and everything for their ends. They would not be above trying something... crazy."

"Celena." Allen said. "Are you sure you'll be all right by yourself?"

"They didn't get rid of me when I wasn't lucid or speaking sense. That was months ago. You've left me on my own before."

"The situation may change." Allen looked up at the royal towers where the Astons resided.

Celena swallowed. She sidled closer to Allen, so the men formed a knot around her. "I'm prepared for whatever might come. If I have to leave Palas, I can."

" _That_ kind of prepared," said Allen, as the crew muttered. "I hadn't realized you thought–"

"An exit strategy, isn't that what it's called? I wasn't deliberately putting one together." She avoided Gaddes's knowing look. "I didn't think I needed one. But I have one, if needs arise. Come on, all those times you took me to port, I didn't sit there and talk to no one. Not every time, anyway."

Gaddes crossed his arms. "You'd best stop skipping horseback ridin' lessons, then. You won't get far on foot."

"So you've told me," Celena said glumly. Without turning around, she could feel Allen's tense unhappiness. "Besides, it makes no sense as a real plot. There's no one left in Zaibach who would know or care. Maybe it's just gossip. It might not be a move against me at all."

"Against your brother, on the other hand," said Allen mildly. "You're right, Celena. We've been careless. Even a gathering such as this might stir up poisonous talk."

The chill redoubled. "That means you're all in danger, as well."

"Ain't nothin' we haven't seen before," said Gaddes.

"Yeah, don't worry 'bout us, 'lena."

Allen shook her gently. "It's you I'm worried about. If someone decides to use you as leverage..." He let the words hang in the air. "Which is why I gifted you with so many guards," he added.

Celena winced. "Sorry. I told him to wait inside," she said, gesturing across the plaza.

"Sister, you must stick close to the princesses. They have their own defenses. And as much as I hate to admit it, Lord Dryden cannot get here fast enough."

She said, "That gap of time may be shorter than you think. I heard the smiths corps are tying up the approvals for the Crusade."

"Eavesdropper," muttered Gaddes.

"Tattletale," she sing-songed.

"Now, children," Riden said, wagging his finger.

"In that case, we have preparations of our own to make," Allen said. "Gaddes, as we discussed."

Gaddes snapped to attention. "Aye, Boss! We'll get right on it. Kio, Ort, you two go ahead–"

"Wait," said Celena. "I might not see you again before you leave. A kiss for good-luck?" She smiled at all of them.

Allen glanced at something over her head, then began to step aside. "You can't deny a lady her request."

To various protests and nervous laughter, Celena stood on her tiptoes and embraced Kio first, kissing him quick on the cheek. "–don't be silly, Katz, I've just come from mucking in the garden, I'm even filthier than you are!" She went after each of them in turn, receiving everything from hearty claps on the back to Pyle's nearly teary-eyed farewell.

They dispersed in twos and threes, teasing and jabbing at each other. It was then that Celena realized she had missed Gaddes.

She whirled around. Her brother was already on his way out; she would see him later in the evening. This part of the plaza seemed to be empty. Finally she spotted a figure standing on the other side of the fountains.

The wind picked up the cool spray, lifting her hair and catching it in her fingers. It was getting long again.

"Gaddes," she said as she drew closer.

Before she could open her arms to embrace him, he caught both her hands, stopping her short. It was warm, live heat, his callused fingers covering her palms.

"You really can't come with us."

Celena remembered to breathe. Her voice barely carried above the falling waters. "You know I can't." She couldn't look away from his eyes. She had never seen him like this. Or never noticed. "I wish I could come back to the Crusade. To check the re-fit one more time. In case there's something that was missed."

He looked down at their joined hands. "We'll be fine." This time he didn't smile. Just a trace of a shadow crossing his brow. "Take care of yourself."

She curled her fingers over his. "Bring my brother back home to me. All of you."

Slowly, so as not to startle her, he bowed over her hands, close enough to kiss.

"Your will, Celena." He let her hands drop to her sides. A touch on her arm, and he was walking across the plaza, toward the stables.

Away.

Celena sank down upon the fountain's edge. Beside her, stone porpoises leaped for air, perpetually entwined, staring at nothing.

* * *

Though like everyone else Celena was busy with preparations, her schedule contracted. Gardening. Lessons. And the early evening meal with the Astons and a few select guests. She had to be on her best behavior for that last engagement, but it was easy enough to be charming and polite with her brother beside her. Though she didn't take it quite so seriously as Allen did, it was deeply satisfying to do something with him, as an equal. Even if it was something as silly as frivolous banter.

The topics were not quite so frivolous, though. The king was still much weakened; though his daughters had quietly taken over most of the administrative duties, at the dinner table no one seemed to want to treat him any differently. At the same time, there were always ministers and powerful merchants trying to force the sisters from power, or pretend to side with them. Besides the absent Lord Dryden, who in his marital limbo with Princess Milerna was probably the rightful ruler of Asturia, it was Sir Allen Schezar who was their strongest supporter.

Into this mix Celena took her seat. Allen had been terribly worried about it. However Celena had the dubious good-luck to resemble a young Duchess Marlene of Freid, the king's eldest and deceased daughter. The king doted on Celena openly, and invoked Marlene despite everyone else's unnerved expressions. This went on for some time, until Celena was well-prepared for it. "Her hair was longer, but those eyes of hers... they could see further than most."

"I'm quite a lot younger, your majesty. I'm sure there are many in this room who see much further than I."

"Your brother," guessed the king.

Celena swept her lashes down. This time it was fine to blush. "He's older than me, and more accomplished. I'm not sure I could compare wisdom to wisdom, but – the wise consort with the wise. I think my brother chooses his company well."

"Not always so," the king said. He paused to chew his food, and quaffed some wine, coughing afterwards. What a poor old man, Celena thought. But he was sharp-eyed when he looked up again. "He is not always wise with his choice of company, young lady."

Before she could shoot a dismayed look at Allen – she was not about to insult him in front of everyone, much less while sitting beside him – he took over. "I keep company with all sorts, your majesty. Of which of them do you disapprove?"

"Fanelia," the king intoned. "That upstart boy is letting his legend go to his head."

Celena's throat went dry. She swallowed her mouthful, then tried not to be too hasty about grabbing her water-glass.

"Every quarter, he asks us for more assistance, in money, in people–"

"Father, his whole kingdom was burned down–"

Celena could feel heat on her face, but it was no blush. The blood was draining from her face. Her hands were cold–

"His influence can have a unifying effect on our mutual allies," came Allen's voice. It should have been soothing. Instead a tightness spread from the back of her head and made her jaw clench.

"Bah. He was useful to us during the war, but now they say he has deactivated the Yspano guymelef!"

In this dress, she could cover her shallow breaths, but her vision was covered with bright spots–

"Who would believe that? If you ask me, King Van Fanel is hiding the Escaflowne–!"

"Please stop!" Celena cried out. " _Please stop talking about him!_ "

Up and down the long table, silverware clattered. Allen's chair scraped the floor. "Celena!"

"Don't speak of him! I..." She shook her head as Allen gripped her shoulders. "I beg your pardon, your majesties. Please don't mention that person."

"Excuse us," said Allen swiftly. He pulled her chair back, and scooped her into his arms.

In moments they were up the winding stairs, through the stained glass halls, across chambers lit only by moonlight.

Celena was shivering, her eyes tightly shut. She could feel her brother's heartbeat. Too fast. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. If you are afraid of... him, we will not bring him up in your presence again. If he ever visits, you can stay in our rooms."

"It's not that. I'm not afraid of King Van." How could she be? She saw him in her dreams every night. "It's just that Dilandau hates him so much."

Allen's hold tightened around her.

Celena went on, her voice hoarse. "He never felt more alive than when he was fighting Van Fanel. All the blood... the fire... It's so loud. I don't know if I can... I couldn't look at a picture of him. I can hardly bear to hear his name." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Brother."

"It's not your fault."

Brother sounded so bleak.

Vaguely Celena felt the softness of a bed. The scent of the flowers she'd picked this morning. A sheet laid over her, white as a shroud...

Her face was wet. "Why is he still awake." She began to sob. "Why is Dilandau still awake?"

*

"Brother?"

She thought it was night, but slivers of light escaping the drawn curtains told her it was nearly midday. The bed sank, and Allen touched her brow. She didn't move.

"How are you feeling, Celena?"

She wasn't sure she wanted to answer that question. Before, she had been so sure she would be the one answering. "Will we have to leave?" she asked instead. Her voice sounded weak enough to be blown away in the wind.

Allen froze. Then he moved to grasp her hand. Once she felt him close, she latched on and held on as though for her soul.

"No," he said gently. "I told them about your dreams in the morning. That the first thing you see is... Van striking me, and that it has troubled you all this time. They believed it. They don't know about Dilandau."

Relief flooded her. She closed her eyes, letting her brother's presence ground her, and searched herself. It was like circling a monster in the middle of a dark room. Everything was quiet and calm, but if he was watching her... "His memories come back to me all the time," she admitted. "Gradually. Like remembering a dream. When I have a fit, it's different. The memory, the dream – it's a bombardment. Not just what I sense, but what he _feels_." Every whisper grew softer and softer. "He never can take over, though. He doesn't seem to know how. But he's loud. Like being in a sea-cave in a storm. Far away and inescapable."

"You believe he can't take control?"

"No chance of it. It's me who's weak. He's only a shadow. I don't think he's ever fully _there_ when he stirs. But he's the reason I lose myself. If he were gone, I could just... have some peace... memories or no..."

In silence, Allen helped her sit up and drink a cup of water. Then he held her, as he used to. Like she was a baby again.

After a while, he asked, "Does he wake up around me?"

"Besides–?" Celena bit her lip. She didn't want to remind Allen of that fight. "No. Why do you ask?"

"He always said he hated me."

She turned her head, trying to see Allen's face. "I don't think he ever hated you."

"You remember anything of that?" he asked, tentative.

She sighed. "Dilandau's just... predictable. He's all upside-down and backwards." She snorted. "He would fall in hate like some people fall in love. Fickle. I think he only hated you because you were a strong opponent. And he hated losing. More than anything."

"Celena, you understand I don't doubt you." Allen looked away for a moment. "It's my own memories that are hard to overcome."

In her mind's eye, she could see the Scherazade – every blemish and scrape that had been rubbed away by his crew. It had to be more difficult for Allen, who had lived it. "Mm. Remember, then: he was _insane_ , Brother. All I know for certain is that if he truly loathed you, we would have had real problems before now."

"Like... Van."

"Yes." She swallowed. "Like King Van." She slid back down to the bed. Allen shook his head, urging her to eat something. In the end she forced down some soup dipped in millsbread, then burrowed into the pillows.

Allen sat in his favorite chair. A beating of wings told her Natal had joined him. His voice sounded as weary as she felt. "Celena, I know you are going to tell me to depart with the Crusade in a few days. What I want to know is – if you can be honest with me – should I?"

 _Will I survive without my brother?_ It wasn't a question she wanted to ask. She knew the answer, though. It had to be enough.

"I may have a few fits," Celena said. "I want to scream right now, to speak truth. But I think... as long as they leave me be, all this is only grief." _This is only emptiness._ "I thought I was so much further than this." She lay there for many miet, listening to Allen watch her. Then she managed to raise her head. "...but I'm not going to give up. I'm not going to leave you, Allen. You're right; I want you to go on the Crusade. I will miss you so much, but you can't stop your life because of me."

She didn't realize her eyes were closed till she felt the tender touch on her cheek. "Precious Celena. Don't worry about anything else. I will take care of the others. You'll be safe here."

"I know," she said. "Brother – I could never hate you. Never. I give you hard time, and... you drive me crazy sometimes. Still love you. If you could put that fear aside, I'll put aside mine."

"All right. As your will, my sister." He drew the hair from her brow. After a few moments, he said, "Some of the fellows asked to see you before our departure."

Celena curled up in the covers. "No. I don't want him to see me like this. I don't want him to take leave thinking of this." She shook her head, drawing her arms to her breast. "Let them remember our last farewell. Please."

On the day the Crusade left, the servants opened the tall windows, but Celena was not out on the balcony to see it off. They were left open all day long, until the sun ran out of shadows to cast, and out of light by which to see them.

* * *


	3. Walled Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The embers fly: Celena's dreams are coming true. But will it take a vision to be rid of Dilandau?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See [foreword](http://archiveofourown.org/works/295045/chapters/472146#main) for labels and disclaimers. Unauthorized duplication and distribution is prohibited.

Step by step, everything was easy. An arc for the stem. An outline of the bud and leaves. Celena rubbed the pressed stick on a flagstone, and now it was sharp for the veins and folds and prickles.

Natal, who had been asleep in the shade, flapped her wings.

"You could use a knife, you know."

Celena looked up, and almost dropped her sketchbook trying to scramble to her feet. "Princess Milerna–"

"Don't get up, dear." Milerna peered at her unfinished sketch. "You're drawing that one?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"You were here when I left. That was almost an hour ago!" Milerna said.

Celena smiled despite herself. "And all I have is three lines, I know. It's the movement I'm trying for. That flower is always moving in the wind. Bobbing and swaying and quivering. I want it to be on the page, yet still moving."

Milerna nodded vigorously. "Oh, I know just what you mean. My medical books are all like that. Everything is lifeless."

"Yes! Frozen. I suppose it would be more precise to cut it and pin it down for a drawing. But I want to remember the flower. And all of its parts."

"You're very gifted, Celena, to be able to capture it on a page." Milerna spread out her skirt over the nearest bench, and took a seat.

Celena dipped into a bow. It just seemed the thing to do. "It can't be captured, my lady. It's a flower." Gently, ever so gently, she reached out and cupped its petals. Her hand was steady.

Milerna was watching her carefully. There was a tendril of unease in Celena, but with the Crusade gone, everyone seemed to be watching her. Only in her garden did she feel as though she weren't putting on a show. Dilandau had not woken up again since that night; loneliness, on the other hand...

"I was wondering why you don't use a sharpener for your sticks," Milerna said at last.

Celena shrugged. "I suppose I got used to not having knives or blades. I get just the right point this way." She looked around, and laughed. "It does leave a mess, doesn't it!" All of her rubbings had left jagged streaks and blotches all over the stones. "I'll wash that off before I go. You know, I'm even messier in ink. My apron's nearly black from all the spills."

"You look like a proper scholar," said Milerna. "Just remember not to touch your face."

"Yes," said Celena. "Some stains are hard to take out. Princess Milerna, may I ask you a question? There's somethng I've always wondered. I thought perhaps you would know about it."

Milerna grimaced, then quickly turned that into a smile. "Go on."

"How do calluses form? Are they skin?"

The princess looked surprised. _No, that wasn't the hard question, your majesty._ "Oh, it's where the skin gets rough from friction or constant use. See, I have one on my writing hand." She showed Celena.

Celena leaned forward to look, keeping her hands folded on her lap. (She noted that Milerna was still wearing her wedding ring; she could see the chain from which Dryden's matching ring was hung.) "But is it live skin? Is it like a scar?"

"No, it's the top layer of skin. It's dead tissue, actually, but it's like the outermost shell. It can be very tough and strong."

"Oh, I see." Celena smiled. "I've just got some new calluses from doing the work out here, and I was curious."

"You can get some help, you know. You don't have to be weeding and digging things all the time."

"But that's the best part!" Celena protested. "I love coming here. It's nice to be working for my own enjoyment."

Milerna nodded knowingly. "Something all your own. Not someone else's. I understand that. You could still get some help, though."

 _To free up my time to sit in the dark and miss my boys?_ In the past few days, her lessons and reading had only been made bearable by the sessions in the garden. "It's a reason to put my boots on in the morning."

Milerna laughed. "You're a sensible young lady, Celena. Might I ask, dear, how are you doing?"

"I miss them more every day. It's been quiet, though – for that I am grateful." Celena pursed her lips, and decided to make it easy for Milerna. "I'm still quite mortified by that scene I caused at dinner. I hope the king doesn't think any less of me." She laid her hands flat on her apron.

"Oh, no, don't you worry about that. We explained it to him."

"I just didn't think it bothered me that much. I have that dream every morning." At least she didn't have to feign her nonchalance here.

"It must be tiring for you." Milerna said. Then, "Celena," she said with forced nonchalance. "How are your medicines working?"

Celena considered the question. "It's less foggy. My attention is sharper. I do get a bit flighty at times, but I think I was probably like that before."

"And...?"

Now she truly took pity on the princess. She wouldn't find a case like Celena's. Ever. Anywhere. "The fits aren't so bad. When it happens, it's like looking through a window in the rain. You know something's out there–" looking back at you, "–you know what it might be, but it's never clear. I don't remember it ever being clear."

A beautiful half-lie. If the pictures out of Dilandau's head were ever clear, Celena herself stopped. There was nothing to remember. The trouble was when those images began to resolve into focus...

"You see," Milerna's hands clenched briefly, and Celena braced herself for anything. "Lord Dryden asked me to broach a possibility to you. He has a lead on a different type of drug. They will have to test it extensively, of course. It won't just be for you. Many others who suffered in the war might be able to use it."

"What does it do?"

"It erases memories. It's very specific, so you can't lose yourself," Milerna said quickly, "And you might be able to eliminate his effect altogether."

Celena was glad she was already seated. "Erase Dilandau. Is that what you're saying?"

Her heart rose, though there were claws in it. It was everything she had been waiting for. How many times had she cried out for it? Yet every detail seemed to dig those claws deeper.

"In theory," said Milerna. "They are still investigating it."

She was so light-headed. "Your majesty... these may be the same drugs which erased _me_."

Milerna looked wan. "That's what I told Dryden. But apparently there is a way to target specific events. Your daily dream, for instance."

Inside, Celena quailed. The very first day she'd woken up. The first day she'd truly seen her brother again, awake and aware and raising her face to the rain of sparks. Gone? Forever? "I... don't think a person can truly judge whether a memory is good or bad." She picked up her sketchbook to give her hands something to do. Pages of flowers and leaves and branches. The book opened to a triptych of a budding flower. Clumsy, but the lines were crisp. The progression was there. "The heart can open over time," Celena said.

"Yes," said Milerna softly. "Oh, Celena, your life would be much easier without these things to plague you. It could be kept as a last resort, though. "

"Thank you, my lady. I think that is probably best. And my brother will have something to say about it."

"As always," smiled Milerna. "Consider it. You don't have to torture yourself for something you didn't do."

After Milerna had gone, Celena crawled to one of the nearby stepping-stones now covered in charcoal marks. She rubbed off some of the black dust, clapped her hands hard, and turned her palms up.

She did have new calluses. Those were red and raw – on the sides of her fingers like Milerna's, and along her palm where she hauled and pulled and shoveled.

And underneath were the old lines. Dust gathered in their grooves: along the thumb, on the ball of the hand, a horizontal bar along the base of the fingers.

The hilt of a sword.

The controls of a guymelef.

Bathed and oiled like a lady, she had never seen them come out in relief. Working like a country squire, she began to see them emerge. They appeared slightly distorted – as though her hands were now too small for them.

There was a shadow on the side of the fifth fingers, almost to the wrists. It looked like an old scar. Celena guessed it wasn't, and Milerna had ruled it out anyway. The callused layer had grown over something, maybe where the skin had been scraped raw.

Celena clenched her hands. She opened them. The lines were still there.

"It's dead skin," she said aloud. "He's not here. It's just traces of him left on me."

Snapping out of her thoughts, she walked over to the sketchbook, flipped open an empty page, and slammed her hands on the paper.

Wetness slid off her face and dripped over her knuckles. "The only one here is me," said Celena.

*

By the next month, she'd let the garden grow wild, and retreated to the archives. With the mornings growing hotter, a quick dousing after dinner was enough to keep the plants alive. Presently her most pressing task was charming Lord Dryden, which proved unexpectedly difficult. He was nothing like his articulate, detailed letters. Celena at first found it difficult to keep up with his tracks of thought, which were stuck in shades of sloppy and eccentric. He had a terribly driven, academic mind, and had a habit of throwing mental challenges at her, then laughing about it.

He picked up right off that she wanted her father's diary. "You must learn how to read it, first. What good will it do the world if you open it up, view your father's handwriting, and then burn it in the fireplace in a fit of pique?"

"I am not prone to fits of pique, Lord Dryden." Celena paused. "Just the other kinds of fits."

At least she could be candid with him without second-guessing herself. She didn't even object when he dismissed her tutor for two weeks, on the basis that she was learning nothing of use. His lordship clearly had resources, and the skills to use them. When Celena wasn't in a solitary phase, she chose his company more and more. It caused a lot of talk, but he was the only one in the castle who didn't care about gossip. With his help she learned all the major alphabets, and marked which lexicons could help her decipher them in documents. Dutifully, or dutifully enough, she read whatever pamphlet he foisted on her, knowing that if she had trouble, she could probably persuade him to declaim its contents. At full volume, with gestures, in crowded corridors.

If only he had a proper sense of humor, he might be halfway pleasant. It just made her miss Gaddes and Allen and the rest.

The other subject on her reading list was Zaibach.

Part of her felt the simple thrill of defying her brother. Part of her felt the keen necessity. The accounting of her life was starkly simple: five years with her family, ten years with Zaibach. Her brother was her past, but not her only past. If she had to open that window and face the storm – then so be it.

Unfortunately Zaibach was stingy with the details of its every last working. Asturia, ostensibly a great ally, had few books which weren't bald propaganda. The books written in Asturian, anyway. The books written in Zai were treasure troves. It was slow going, as apparently Dilandau hadn't bothered with his reading lessons either– _useless boy_ –but Celena could pick it up faster. The pamphlets tended to be illustrated, as well; a favorite tactic of the propagandists was to change and mislabel diagrams to throw off mechanically uninclined scholars. Celena simply sketched them out, erased, and re-drew them, and filled in the blanks.

Her change of habits distressed both Eries and Milerna, though in different ways. Milerna thought she was retreating into her shell again. Eries disapproved of her scholarly ways. "You're growing more and more like Lord Dryden," Eries said one night, when Celena forgot the hour and was nearly locked in the archives. "You'll be slovenly as him in no time," she added. "Whatever will I tell your brother?"

Celena was secretly horrified. The next day she took a long bath, and found her old study partners for a picnic in the garden. Thereafter she reserved one day for herself and the rest of the week for her research.

Every morning she woke early, calling for her brother. If he didn't come, she searched out Dilandau. She wasn't sure what to think when there was no sign of him, either.

Matters became trickier as Celena exhausted the archives. She wasn't reading all the books cover-to-cover, as it was obvious which would have useful information and which were full of drivel. But the collection as a whole was so incomplete that her knowledge also became incomplete. She was beginning to remember things about Zaibach for which she had no explanation, and of which Dilandau had no clue. After a few days of weeding, she realized she had no other recourse.

"You want what?" Lord Dryden peered at her over his glasses. He had his feet on the table, and Celena was trying not to stare.

"I was only wondering if you had other books written in Zai."

"You brushing up on the old language, Celena? You know, half the ministers believe you're a spy."

Celena rolled her eyes. "I'm not a very good spy, in that case. How am I going to track their merchant fleets while sitting in a windowless room, reading about the country I'm supposedly spying for?"

"Hm. That's bad for you, you know. You should crack open a window. You're too young to die of book mold."

"Yet here you are."

He burst out laughing. Then he sat up, and leaned over the table. "Why. Why should I let you into my private collection to look at my most coveted books? And don't try to barter on your brother's favor. I know what he thinks of me."

 _'You wanna stop havin' trouble, you gotta risk it.'_

"What about an apprenticeship?"

That took him by surprise. "An apprenticeship?"

"For a year. Or until I am married," she added impulsively. All the silly tales added that part. "I've seen you trying to look in my sketchbooks. I know you think my work is exquisite."

"You have a very high opinion of yourself, young lady."

"Not especially," Celena admitted. "You wrote that to me, this past spring."

"Huh," said Lord Dryden.

"Now you could have been flattering me, I suppose." Casually she opened her sketchbook on the table, and began to leaf through it. She skipped the pages with her handprints. "But could you really pass up a year of free labor?"

He pointed a stylus at her. "I do not like slavery, Miss Schezar. Nor do I like the idea of a pretty young thing such as yourself wasting your youth as a secretary."

 _My youth was already wasted._ "Then pay me. You'll get it all back, anyway, when I buy books from you."

This fit of laughter lasted several miet. "...oh. Oh, I'd wondered how Sir Allen would fare without that troublesome temper of his. Apparently I would have much to fear. What if I don't need an apprentice?"

Celena bit her lip. This was awfully close to treachery, but something told her she did need those books that badly. Besides, the jibes at her brother were beginning to grate. "Lord Dryden, whenever you have children, it will take many long years before they are old enough to appreciate the breadth of your wisdom. It's true: a strong man may have children at any time in his life. But will your mind be as sharp as it is now? At the peak of your powers?"

Lord Dryden had the same carefree smirk on his face, but Celena caught how his neck stiffened. "You ought to have more respect for your elders."

"I do. But in my limited experience, very old men with a lot of power tend to be insane." She waited for Dryden to stop chuckling. "...and they tend not to leave legacies worth mentioning."

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you bartering my imaginary children's future for your dubious past?"

Somberly, Celena said, "Everyone here thinks I'm a spy. Or worse. Do you know anyone else in this kingdom who would pass over wealth and prestige just to get the truth about their past?" She reached for his hand. Her grip wasn't strong, but it was firm. "I promise you, on my honor as a Schezar: I will never lie to your children."

Almost as a matter of course, he began to shake her hand in accord. "Celena Schezar. The truth that you find may be uglier than you can imagine."

For the first time, she looked away. "The truth is already ugly. What difference does it make if it gets uglier?"

That evening, after all her social obligations were fulfilled, she sent away the maid, locked out the guard, and sat on the floor to cry with relief. Natal flew to her at once, perching on her knee.

She stroked the fine white feathers, swallowing her sobs. _Brother. Gaddes. I hope you still recognize me when you return._

*

Naturally the council was aghast at Lord Dryden's new hire. They barred her from their gatherings, and charged Lord Dryden with conducting all political work through official channels.

Celena only bowed. "My lords, I have no interest in Lord Dryden's politics or business. I am only to be involved with his private collection." Then she sat there and looked mysterious and very much a Schezar. Princess Eries was quietly impressed, she could tell.

Princess Milerna didn't know what to make of it. "You will be spending day and night with him?"

Celena really had fallen behind with the palace gossip. She waved her off. "No, no, your majesty! Only with his _books_. If... you want to pry him away, I could remind him...?"

At which point Milerna flushed and bit her lip; so it seemed that matter was still not settled. Celena suddenly realized that Milerna was only a few years older than herself. _She's had a whole life, though. She's gotten to venture out with my brother._

It was probably only fair that Celena would be spending so much time with her erstwhile husband.

Her first day of work wasn't difficult. She came in, and Lord Dryden told her not to touch anything.

On the second day, she donned a medic's mask and carefully dusted every open surface. Every few miet he complained that she'd moved something, but despite this she finished just after sunset.

After three days, Celena was following the instructions from a crafts pamphlet to fold paper gliders. "Lord Dryden, you promised me access to your Zaibach books and letters."

"Hm? Did I?"

"Yes." She threw the glider at his head, and giggled when it lodged in his hair. "You haven't done anything in three days. What are you waiting for, my lord?"

"An answer." He smirked at her. "Celena, I cannot fathom why you should want to know more about the people who kidnapped you, wiped out your personality, and turned you into one of the most effective killing-machines Gaia has ever seen."

The pamphlet slid off her lap. Celena bent like a reed in the wind, clapping her hands over the gathering scream. A squeak did escape, and she pulled at the rest, choking it down. She sat up, wiping her cheeks in case they were wet. "...my lord, I cannot go forward unless I know what happened." Her hands shook. She grabbed the arms of the chair, sat up, and tried to collect herself.

Lord Dryden made no move. He was watching her but not in an intrusive way. "You are quite a brave girl," he murmured. "Definitely related to your brother. Here!"

Just in time, Celena caught the slim book in her arms. It was a school primer of some sort, still encased in the archivist's lock, but the binding and lettering were unlike anything she'd ever seen.

"That," he said, "is Old Zai. Hand-wrought before Dornkirk's arrival. It is related to most major dialects in Zaibach. There's no lexicon for it. After all, it was written for five-year-olds." He rose, clearing his throat. "It's very old, Celena. Be gentle with it."

"Thank you," she said quietly.

It was sunset before she got to the middle of the alphabet variants. She blinked her puffy eyes. Lord Dryden's chambers faced the mountains, and the orange and reds washed over them and across the city below. How she wished the Crusade were cresting those peaks.

*

She'd found a flower in a serpent's mouth, cold as ice and unfurling with a steamy hiss. With all her strength, she tugged at it. When it gave way, it was a shock: where the flower had been, a hole had opened up, and – her heart racing too quick to say goodbye – she stepped through.

The ground yanked upward as she plummeted, and then she was in knee-high grass, blown down by a great wind which trapped the sound in her ears, but she fought it, she pulled at the blades, and she crawled up the ridge to meet a seething blossom of flames–

"Miss Celena should be woken up," came a voice.

Snapped out of the dream, Celena lifted her head from her desk. It had been another late night of cataloging for Lord Dryden, and an earlier morning of looking up vocabulary so she might decipher her latest reading-list – the modern forms which were at once both maddeningly familiar and unintuitive. The words still whirled through her head. There was probably a huge papercut on her cheek.

"I know what the instructions are, but she ought to know."

"...Hortiz?"

The guard escaped from her nursemaid and knelt beside her. "I beg your pardon for disturbing you, Celena. The watch-garrison said they spotted the Crusade coming over the pass."

Celena jumped to her feet. _Brother!_ "Prepare the carriage at once!"

"Yes, milady!"

The maid asked, "Did you want a bath drawn–?"

"No, have them straighten out the room. Fresh sheets on all the beds, and send a girl down to cut some flowers, the fattest blooms by the pond, please." Celena splashed the sleep from her eyes, trying not to do something silly like twirl all over the room. They were coming home! She laughed, and felt she hadn't truly laughed in ages.

She paused in the middle of digging for a suitable dress. Quickly she grabbed her books and buried them among her clothes. She would have to break the news of her apprenticeship rather gently to Allen.

In no time she was racing down the familiar stairs and into the waiting carriage. They rode through the town at a near-gallop. Celena kept the curtains open, watching the neighborhoods waking up, the sun slanting across walls and drawing its gauzy veil over the canals. She was unaccountably nervous. What would she say to her brother? What would she say to–

The carriage made a turn, so that they were in view of the port. "Why are they ahead of us?" It had not been twenty miet since she left their rooms, and she had no doubt Hortiz had reported the sighting immediately. Yet the Crusade was already on final approach. Celena had thought to beat them to the port, and be waiting there for them.

There was another delay as they entered the port complex. Hortiz couldn't talk his way past the sentries. Finally she opened the carriage door, and slipped past them. "I'm here to see my brother!" With that, she left Hortiz behind. As she climbed the stairs to the landing area, passing the gauntlet of staring faces, her heart beat faster and faster. She wished she had worn her boots.

It was Allen who was waiting for her. He was issuing orders to a medic, who took off running, and as soon as Celena met his eyes, she knew there was something wrong. "Brother?"

He took her in his arms, and she embraced him.

She knew he was shielding her. "Tell me, please!"

"There was an accident. The injuries are not serious, but he took ill–"

Celena twisted until she was out of Allen's grasp. In the distance, beneath the Crusade's shadow, she saw them unloading a pallet with a figure upon it. The whole crew came out; she counted heads.

"Gaddes is alive, Celena." He took her hand, and she was glad of it. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring him back safe and sound."

Without letting go of Allen's hand, she began to walk towards the gathered men. The whole world seemed immersed, every sound a dull shock against her body. "I want to see him," she said over the rushing in her ears.

"Are you sure?"

She stopped at the edge of the crowd. The fellows were saying she didn't want to see, she shouldn't be there. She squeezed her brother's hand. "I'm sure," she said, and pushed through.

Gaddes was wrapped up tight, so that only his face was showing. His skin was flushed and beaded with sweat – and had at least a week's growth of beard, which made her stomach sink. Even as the medics worked to hydrate him, he was very, very still. Celena fell to her knees. With her free hand, she touched his brow. It was on fire.

She got to her feet, not bothering wipe the grit from her knees, and not releasing Allen. "Hortiz!" she called.

They parted to let him through. "Yes, Miss–"

"Take the fastest horse back to the castle. They're in the bigger stalls. Tell Princess Milerna what's happened here, that it's fever and a snapped leg. Let _no one_ stop you, do you understand?"

"Yes," Hortiz said curtly. He turned and sprinted for the stables.

The medics picked up the pallet and began to move indoors. Celena just stood there until Allen pushed her along, the crew trailing after them.

"'Lena, you're crying," said Kio.

Without a word, Allen produced a handkerchief. Celena looked up gratefully, gripping his hand hard. "I'm just glad you're all home."

*

She extracted the details from the fellows even as Allen's hold on her shoulders grew tigther and tighter. "So it just gave way?"

"Gaddes was right under it."

"We thought he was done-for, but he popped right back up."

"He was alright to limp outta there. Took us way too long, and it was in the wet."

"Then that jerk didn't tell us he was runnin' warm till Kio picked up how he was sweatin'."

"If Riden and Katz hadn't been there..."

"Woulda busted his head open."

"We were stuck in the mountain currents, was the trouble. Couldn't turn back right away."

Celena shut her eyes briefly. She had so many things to tell Gaddes, and at the same time still could not figure out what to say. Now the point was moot. He was in no shape to listen.

When she and Allen disembarked at the castle, they were met by Princess Milerna. "Allen!" The blush was becoming on her, but her brows were drawn down, serious. "Father wants to see you."

"I'll see to Gaddes," Celena said quickly.

"Celena, they'll be going to the medical wing," Allen said. He bent to look her in the eye.

"He's your second. One of us should be there." Compelled, Celena threw her arms around his shoulders and held on tight. "I'm so glad you're back, Brother."

"I cannot tell you what a joy it is to see your face," he said. He kissed her cheek. And looked at her again. _Even if it is sad,_ his eyes seemed to say. Straightening, he made to leave. "Milerna."

Princess Milerna gave an assured nod. "He'll be fine, Allen."

Allen bowed deeply. "Thank you, my lady."

The infirmary was nowadays much more pleasant under the princess's patronage, but nothing could disguise the smells of disease and chemicals. Celena stopped at the threshold. Measuring the pressure on her throat. Breathing deeper wouldn't help.

"Celena, are you sure you don't want to wait out in the garden?" Milerna turned the tap and stuck her hands under the rushing water. "You'll be... it's going to be very unpleasant."

Celena had a flash of pacing the little hospital garden. She went to the sink and opened her hands. Water beat at her palms. "I've seen much worse than unpleasant, m'lady." With a nonplussed look, Milerna handed her the soap. It was strong, and mixed with ground-up crystals: workman's soap. Celena scrubbed at her hands till they stung. "It's interesting: Dilandau hates pain, particularly if he can't control it. I don't like it either, but I don't take for granted being able to feel it. If you'll let me stay, I will."

After a moment, Milerna said, "If you feel at all ill, the garden is right through those doors and down the corridor. All right? Your brother sent _one_ patient down here."

The worst part was at the beginning, when they drugged him to keep him asleep. Celena fought down a surge of panic as Gaddes's breathing became weak, not even enough to lift a feather. But she wiped his brow with a cooled cloth, and saw that it was clear. Free of pain.

Milerna sneaked a glance at her when they opened his leg. It was a small, precise cut, and they sponged the blood away. As Milerna checked for fragments, on impulse Celena took the used sponges to the incinerator chute, and brought back fresh ones. She licked her lips. The smells were sickly familiar, though not so strong as to turn her stomach. The crush of bone and flesh was nothing like this clean, quiet mending. She looked on at the white break being realigned, and stroked Gaddes's limp hand. _So this is living bone. This is marrow and blood, knitting together, not taken apart._

She sat quietly as Milerna sewed the skin together. "There wasn't much infected tissue," Milerna said. "His leg will heal up eventually. But I'm afraid that means it's in the channels." She nodded at the chief medic. "They'll be dosing him every few hours. He's... not out of danger, yet."

"Thank you," said Celena. Her eyes prickled.

The rest of the day was more excruciating than the surgery. After some hours, the sedatives wore off, and fever dreams passed like shadows over Gaddes's face. He made almost no sound – which was frightening to Celena – just thrashed and jerked and twitched. He was not as tall as her brother, but he was at least as strong; to see him helpless like this was unsettling. She dabbed at his sweat and wrote down his temperature and simply waited, waited for him to open his eyes and come back to her.

After one of the nurses forced her to eat lunch, Celena went out to the small garden to breathe real air again. The sun was shining out in the world. Birds wheeled over the courtyards where the children liked to feed them.

Her thoughts lingered with Gaddes. Was that how others saw her fits? Was this the wrenching feeling which clouded her brother's brow? She had been so wrapped up in her own agonies. Perhaps she hadn't comprehended what it took for others to keep vigil for her.

She hoped Gaddes wasn't trapped in the kind of nightmares she had.

She went back into the ward. Some patients were asleep, and a few were reading or talking. One young man was staring at the ceiling; Celena stopped at the foot of his bed.

"Hello," she said. The smile came easily. "My name is Celena. How are you, today?"

*

She visited every patient, even the unconscious ones. Some she promised flowers; others she denied sponge baths, though the leering was amusing enough knowing that eventually someone would tell them who her brother was. Some cried. Some joked with her, and laughed when she returned their bawdy gestures. One begged her to take a note to his lover, and she held an orderly to the errand in exchange for a jar of pickled fish.

One old soldier recognized her.

"You that demon in the guymelef?" he said in a low voice. Almost casual.

"He won't bother anyone else, sir," she answered without thinking. She dipped into a bow. "I give you my word as Schezar."

"I' seen what he burned," he said.

Her voice was soft. She met his gaze. "So did I, sir. I'm glad you survived."

Not for another hour did the urge come over her: to scream, scream, scream. She hurried back to Gaddes's bedside, and laid her head beside the crook of his elbow. He didn't stir. _Please wake up and talk to me._

Gradually the fit passed. She tasted salt on her tongue, but no matter. She could feel the beating of his heart. That would have to be enough.

Allen found her there, a book propped between her knees and the mattress, one hand folded over Gaddes's. "How is he?" he whispered.

"The fever's still peaking. They'll see how he fares through the night."

He wrapped his arms around her, and held her to his chest. "Celena."

"Brother," she said. "How frightening to have something like that inside you. Smoldering from within."

"Let me take over," said Allen gently. They exchanged places. Celena gathered her belongings and hovered by Allen, reluctant to leave. "Celena, will you be all right this morning?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh." The dream would come, steady and regular as the sunrise. "Oh, yes. Don't worry about that." She turned to go. "Don't give up hope," she said, whether to Allen, or to Gaddes, or to herself. She managed a wave for those few who called to her with a 'goodbye, milady,' and left the infirmary.

The warmth of the day had ushered in a bank of clouds, so it was dark outside by the time she got to their rooms. There were signs of Allen scattered all around. Celena had forgotten how much she missed it. She smelled the flowers which had been brought up, rearranging some of the taller stems, and tidied up here and there. Natal was on her usual perch. "I guess they don't allow owls down there," Celena said. A shiver and a lifted wing was all the answer she got.

At her desk where that morning she'd woken up with a book for a pillow, she instead found a small cloisonned box.

She opened it and held up its contents to the light. It was a pair of earrings. It was the daintiest goldwork she had ever seen, with stones the color of thin honey. _Brother._ She swapped her book for a nightgown, and put the box away with the rest of her keepsakes. The earrings she wore to bed.

It was no use trying to read any more pamphlets. She extinguished her lanterns and pulled the covers to her chin, listening to the wind whistling through the castle.

The jewels were cool on her skin. The last time her brother had gifted her, she'd been drunk with vino and interesting company, lounging on Gaddes's floor and gloating over her good fortune. And now...

She turned her head. The lights from the main room cast a silvery sheen over her windows.

Her reflection stared back at her.

 _Demon._

Celena kicked off the covers. She threw a warming robe over her gown, and called for Natal. The bird responded instantly, as though it was no surprise.

*

"Going out again, Miss Celena?" The guard greeted her. Across the way, the other guard came up on them.

"Yes, Lare. One pace flanking, please." The owl swooped overhead and landed on Hortiz's shoulder. She said to him, "Two paces behind. Please don't speak to me." With that, she quick-stepped down the hall, her bare feet slapping tapestry and stone.

The guards' footsteps were rather loud, but they knew her well enough to keep to a steady cadence, and she soon tuned them out. Under the veil of night, the whole castle seemed different. She walked down the corridors, up winding staircases, crossing bridges and ballrooms. She only knew the look on her face from the few people who met them, who all thought better of hailing them. Her legs burned. But she _was_ stronger now. She could put aside the ache, and just drift through the castle and pick out shapes in the darkness.

Weariness eventually gave way to a second wind. She broke into the kitchen to write an order for the pickled fish, and stole a clean towel to wipe off her face. Hortiz and Lare declined to eat; she felt sorry for them, as it was probably on orders, but she pocketed some bread nonetheless. They set out again for the upper levels near the archives. Her fingertips brushed over intricate carvings and cold armor.

Her mind wandered. If Dilandau were here, what would he have done with all this pain? Destroyed a small village? Crushed bone and blood and soul – yes. He had done all of that, and more. Many times over. It was his way to lash out and redouble everyone's pain, and kill whomever remained. Thus he would always be in control.

Power wasn't going to heal Gaddes.

What did _she_ want to do?

Celena unlatched a stained-glass window while the guards hovered nervously. The wind nearly ripped it from her hands, but she held on, sampling the rain misting in. The night remained as opaque as before. After some miet, she closed it. Just barely keeping herself from slamming it and breaking it. The window hadn't done anything to her, as her mother would have said.

It did her no good to get rid of Dilandau if what she wanted was little different.

Running out onto a balcony and crying for Gaddes wouldn't save him either. The legends and tales always had that part. Perhaps it was to display the depths of anguish, or inspire a sympathetic turn, but in practice it was a silly move. Even if she prayed for Jechia's breath, it was just as likely to be the killing breath of ice as the healing breath of steam.

 _Gaddes, what do I do? Put my boots on? Keep on going?_ Wryly she tapped her bare foot on a step, then took them two-at-a-time to the next floor. _At least I know I can do it, now. Memories or none. Demon or not._

She couldn't stop. She couldn't give up. No one else was going to rescue her from Dilandau or his mess.

Gaddes couldn't give up either.

...if something happened to Gaddes, she might hunt down Jechia herself. They'd probably write a silly tale about it, but there was the slightest chance it would make her feel better.

She might have wandered through her thoughts all night if something hadn't caught her eye. They were in one of the empty sections – usually reserved for honored guests – when she stopped in her tracks. Lare managed to halt; behind them, she heard Hortiz stumble, and the flap of wings.

"Miss Celena?"

"There's a key in that door." Celena stepped closer. "That wasn't there the last time I went to the archives."

"Perhaps it's best not to intrude," said Hortiz, still two paces behind.

"Don't be silly. There's the two of you." Celena rapped on the door. She waited for Lare to get on the other side of her, then pulled the key out and peered in. "The other side is clear, but there's no light at all, not even from the watch-towers. Was anyone supposed to be staying in here?"

"We don't know, Miss."

"These lanterns haven't been lit, lately. Look at the dust."

"Well. I'm going in," she said. If anyone was in there, they were likely breaking some rule, which surely would cancel out her own improprieties.

"Miss, maybe we should–"

Celena rolled her eyes. "All right, you go first." She caught them looking at each other. "Oh honestly, I'm not going to lock you in or kick your asses. You're twice as big as me!"

"Beg pardon, we weren't implying...!"

Ignoring them, Celena pushed the door open. Suddenly Natal dived off Hortiz's shoulder and flew into the room. "Oh, there we are. Problem solved." They waited for a few long miet. "Natal?" Celena called through the cracked door. There was an answering hoot. "All right, there must be no one there. Take point, Lare, please?"

They entered to the sound of beating wings as Natal settled on a perch. The room was a suite, which was surprising enough for this part of the castle. The curtains were closed, and she covered her nose to safely shake them out and draw them. No one had been living there for a while. There were books everywhere, almost as many as in one of Lord Dryden's rooms. The bed was made. The desk had been cleaned out, save for what seemed like a dark feathered quill in the inkpot.

"Shall we light a candle, Miss?"

"Not yet. Do you know who used to live here?" whispered Celena.

Lare shook his head. "I was just posted to the castle this last autumn."

"We weren't allowed up here, before," said Hortiz. "Guards of the Blue Wave only. Never had cause to be in this part of the residence."

Outside, the wind whistled. A light rain ticked on the windows. "There's something about this room," said Celena. "There are no weird traps lying about?"

"Uh..."

"You're going to check for them, right? That's what my brother told you to do."

She waited while they swept around for invisible strings or envenomed blades in the bed. Natal was perched on the back of the chair, and was strangely calm. That added to the feeling that she was supposed to know this, like a word breathed in her ear and then forgotten.

"All clear, Miss."

"Thank you. Light a candle, please, and post yourselves outside." She couldn't think with the two of them puttering around.

They hesitated, still not sure about leaving her alone, but eventually there was the scratch of metal, a spark, and a flame.

The guards could not leave quickly enough. Light spilled into the corners of the room, and Celena stared at what had been concealed in the shadows: a black cloak lined with purple, draped carelessly on a chair.

If the shadows had spoken, she would have heard.

"Folken," she said aloud. The sound was strange on her tongue. "Why do I know that name?" She touched the fabric. It was hard in places, and its weave was smooth yet sharp, like sharkskin. Someone had ripped it from end to end, then mended it with black silk. The image of a face came to her – white hair, unsmiling eyes, a tear tattooed on the bone of the cheek. "Strategos of Zaibach. He was... Fanelia." Van's brother.

There was a commotion outside, but Natal did not stir, and Celena was frozen in place. " _He was here._ In Asturia! In this room!"

The door creaked open.

"Yes, that he was. Do you remember him?"

Without turning around, Celena said, "If I may be so bold, Lord Dryden, you are a scoundrel." She drew her hand away. It was trembling.

Lord Dryden's voice was too loud, rolling over her thoughts. "You have been reading the history of Zaibach, but not your own. So you either already know what they did, or you are avoiding the truth of it. Naturally it is in our best interests to find out which."

Now Celena glared at him. She made her way to the writing desk, where the candle flickered. The drawers were locked. But the desk was of Asturian make, so... She reached underneath as she'd seen Gaddes do, hitching it just so, until with a click the drawer slid open.

There was a journal there, not much different from her own. She looked around for a stylus; there was only the feather. Reluctantly she used its shaft to turn the pages. "These notes are written in High Asturian, but they're encoded."

Over her shoulder, Lord Dryden nodded. "He didn't want Zaibach to read them, if it fell into their hands."

Sitting down, Celena held the book closer to the light. She tried to focus on the writing. "There's a passage here that's different. It's Zaibach shorthand, but it's gibberish." It was strange that it simply _felt_ different, instead of her recognizing any specific words. On a hunch, she sounded out the letters. "Oh, I see. It's a transliteration. Not just of High Asturian, but Seabound Asturian. He wanted someone from here to read this."

"Well, carry on then," said Lord Dryden, leaning over her shoulder.

The wind gusted, rattling the windows.

She grimaced. Seabound Asturian was difficult enough in its own script. But as she picked out the sounds, the message became clear, as though dictated in Folken's terse voice. " _This is about me._ When I was here the first time. It's... it's about the transformation." Words floated off the page: _physical alteration fate sorcerors Dilandau_ , and then they were shaking, because she was shaking and the light seemed to be jumping on the page. "When I was taken again–"

The wind was howling in her ears, and all the flowers were blowing away–

"Celena! Celena!"

She blinked. Her throat felt sore. Her eyes were watering. She was on her knees, leaning on the side of the bed.

There was an earring on the floor, and she picked it up.

She must have been screaming. It was probably about time. Looking up, she found Lord Dryden all the way on the other side of the room, halfway to the door. Her guards were behind him.

Celena found herself musing that if _he_ had actually emerged, halfway-to-the-door wouldn't have been far enough.

She managed to gesture the guards dismissed, and forced her voice out. "...There is a saying in the mountains: you build your nest high, you fall out with it. What did you think was going to happen?"

Lord Dryden had nothing to say to that.

As gracefully as she could, she pulled herself to her feet. His lordship finally moved, picking up the journal where she had dropped it. "What did you see?" he said.

It was all fire and heat lightning. Like the words on the page, they were the shapes of intentions, but Celena could figure it out easily enough. "I saw all the terrible things Lord Folken did. And all the ways Dilandau helped him."

The resulting flinch was gratifying. "Ah. You hate me, now," he said.

Instead of a retort, Celena found herself considering the question. "I see why my brother hates you," she allowed.

"Then out of curiosity, what are your thoughts? Do you like me?"

"I think you are my greatest ally – other than my brother. So I don't have to like you." She grabbed the journal from his hands. "Well, come on. Don't you want me to translate this? My lord?" Natal, bless her, glided from her perch and landed on Celena's shoulder. The sharp grip kept her braced and awake. The scent was as familiar and comforting as Allen's presence.

This time the words were easier to read, and at her own pace. "Hmm. Folken didn't know why the spontaneous transformation occurred. In either direction. Otherwise it's just... dates and times. What he told all of you. Suspicions about the Sorcerors. Questions he had." She glanced up at Dryden, who was waiting a more decorous pace away. "This entry is too short."

"How do you mean?"

"It's a personal log. These are annotations, not the real entries." She reached back in her mind, pressing against the glass of that imaginary window. If she stayed still and looked hard, a tall line might turn into a shadow; a shadow might breathe. "I don't recall Folken ever openly keeping notes. But he was _thorough_ in everything he did. I'm certain that somewhere in this room, there's a secret compartment or two, with the real research."

Lord Dryden scanned the suite. "With enough manpower, we could find it."

"No. I'll do it." Celena felt around in the pockets of her robe, and produced the key. "You left this in the lock, so I would find it." _You gave this room to me. A dubious gift, my lord._ "If you would be so kind, my lord, I'd like to work on this, undisturbed. Unless of course you want these circumstances made known." Milerna would kill him, if Allen ever got done with him. Fortunately for both of them, Allen would be true to his word: he would not leave the infirmary until dawn, at the earliest.

Lord Dryden chuckled. "You are more and more like a spy every day."

"This puts me so close to an answer. I just... I want enough time to find it, if you'd grant me that. A word with the guards outside would help." Before they were foresworn to Allen. "It might mean more coming from you than from me."

"Indeed," said Lord Dryden.

He was so hard to read. Hesitation creeped in. "If... you're concerned about this, they can be posted out there for the remainder of the night."

He gaped at her. "You want to stay here?" He swept his arm around the room. The last dreaming-place of a dead man. "What if something else happens to you?"

Celena licked her lips. She couldn't go by Dilandau's memories, but her own heart was as calm as the placid Natal. "As long as you are discreet, I will have no trouble. Whatever Folken might have done, he never harmed Dilandau." An image manifested in her mind, thrown in relief like firelight on Lord Folken's face, or laughter in a dark corridor. She wasn't sharing that one with Lord Dryden. Even then... "If I have any nightmares, they shouldn't be too bad."

"You're incredible!" Coming from Dryden, it sounded like a mockery. It would have been warm comfort coming from Gaddes. _Oh, Gaddes._ She suppressed that pang. Lord Dryden paced. "You would risk that just for his notes?"

She gestured at herself. "If this was all you knew, wouldn't you do everything you could to find an answer?"

"Somehow I don't think that's true for everyone. Perhaps it is true for all Schezars."

"Hmm. You may be right, Lord Dryden."

"Celena. There are other answers besides this one."

Celena drew in a sharp breath. _The new medicine_. "My lord, I cannot throw away what I don't know I have." She turned away. Natal's wings fluttered. "I have so little already."

"Hm." The door unlatched. Lord Dryden turned to go. "You should not seek the truth out of desperation, Celena. That's how men make up answers according to their own wishes. Facts can be ascertained with enough work. The Truth finds you, not the other way around."

Celena watched the door shut. The room settled into its lines in the half-light. The precise alignments of an ordered mind, and the few careless placements: items dropped, handled, even thrown. The faintest scratch of metal claws on wood, absently left in mid-thought. Everything she'd gleaned from the archives came rushing back, and melded with the bare impressions of Dilandau's remembrances – the starkest sketch of how Folken talked and smelled and moved. The cold heart of Zaibach.

She held up her palm. Across it, a line. Upon it, a feather.

She closed her hand on it, feeling the shadows grow taller.

Then she read until she could no longer see the words.

As the evening passed into the next day, Celena got up from an uneasy doze, sparks still bright in her eyes. She asked the guards for a bowl of water, and a sprig of white flowers.

The prayers weren't quite right, and she wasn't sure she should feel sad, but it was something. After she'd sprinkled water on the cross-corners, she spread her robe on top of the bed and slept till dawn.

Thus passed her first night of vigil for Folken de Fanel.

*

Come morning, Celena had to be quite inventive about getting dressed and getting out. Giddily she imagined a life of espionage and disguise as she put on her gardening shoes while running. Poor Hortiz and Lare – after all their errands, she told them to take the rest of the day off. And reminded them they were under Lord Dryden's orders to keep quiet about their discovery. Next time she went wandering, she'd do it with a full apron with stocked pockets.

Breakfast consisted of a few slices of bread and some of the sour pome in the garden. She was considering one of the flowering weeds, which she'd read were used as salad greens in the lowlands, when Allen came upon her. "Celena," he greeted.

"Oh. Brother! Sorry I missed you for breakfast," she said. She made to hug him, then raised her dirty hands apologetically.

"What's this I hear about Lord Dryden?"

Allen was always too quick by far. "Which rumor are you talking of? Because there have been a lot–" She read the look on his face, "Never mind, I don't want to know which rumor you heard. I... contracted with him, while you were gone."

"You what?"

Celena rolled her eyes despite herself. "I work for him. It's only a few hours a day. If that. You wanted me to be safe," she shrugged. "No one in the palace has better guards, or more loyal ones."

"You had no choice but to work for his lordship?"

"Of course I had a choice. It just seemed like the best–"

"Celena! Where are my _Far Adventures of the Uldom Dynasty_?"

She was sorely tempted to ask Lord Dryden why he was stalking her. But this was another test, and she wasn't going to fail it. "On the northeast bookshelf. Next to your desk. All sorted by internal chronology and separated into editions. It's all there, except for the seventeenth edition, which you said you had either loaned to a minor prince or a wandering sea-nymph."

"And the transcribing?"

Precisely, now. "The script is all finished. You wanted illustrations, though, and that takes time. Do you want me to bundle up what I have for your perusal, my lord?"

"Not necessary. I will have to decide if I want them in color."

"What in the world are you doing?" Allen looked from one to the other.

"A year's paid apprenticeship, Sir Allen," said Lord Dryden in his most magnanimous tone. "Or until she is married. Whichever comes first."

Celena grabbed Allen's wrist to keep him from doing something silly. "It's tedious, but it's not difficult," she said. "And it fills my purse..." She trailed off. Princess Milerna was making her way through the colonnade. _Of course_ Lord Dryden had lured her down here; he appeared entirely too nonchalant when she appeared at his side.

"Your majesty," said Allen, bowing. Celena bobbed a little curtsy.

"Good morning. Dryden, what are you doing here?" said the princess.

"Asking Celena one more question," Lord Dryden said, adjusting his glasses. "Since she did not show up to work yesterday. Why exactly were you wandering through the castle in the middle of the night?"

Celena was regretting the last sour pome, which had been a bit unripe. "I couldn't sleep last night. I had to walk around. Clear my head. I took my guards with me!"

"You know that you should not be seen doing anything suspicious," said Lord Dryden grimly. "Not to mention, you do most of your best work in the middle of the night. Your absence yesterday was understandable, but I can't have you coming in to the office yawning and napping in the stacks."

"I do not take naps when I'm working, my lord," said Celena firmly. Not to mention, she didn't even know what her actual hours were. "But you have a sound point. It won't happen again."

"Of course not! Because I'm installing you in your own office."

It was a chorus, with varying notes. "What?"

"It shall have a bed in it," added Lord Dryden.

"A bed?!" cried Milerna.

"I'm changing her hours to after-dinner. You want the girl to sleep, don't you? I am far too busy with these trade negotiations to supervise her during the day."

Princess Milerna rounded on him. "This is all for your own convenience, Dryden? She's... she's just a–" She stopped short on _little girl_. Celena raised her brows.

"Well, unless her guardian has an objection," drawled his lordship.

Allen twitched. He opened his mouth, probably to rip Dryden a new ear, but he took a long breath and looked down at Celena. "Is this all right? There's nothing else going on here?"

Beautiful half-lies were never that pretty in the face of that genuine concern. Celena squeezed his hand instead of an answer in words. She swallowed the knot in her throat and turned to Lord Dryden. "I must insist, my lord, on a raise in salary. There is nothing more precious to me than spending time with my brother. I cannot put a price on that... but it would be only fair to make it worth my while."

Lord Dryden's neck stiffened just a bit. Aha, so she was off-script. Naturally he didn't skip a beat. "Very well. As of today, your salary is tripled."

Celena couldn't help but bounce. Triple the salary...! Oh, she should not show herself to be so easily bribed. "Thank you, my lord."

"In fact," Lord Dryden said, pretending to think, "We shouldn't just give you an office. How about a whole wing, there by the archives? You said you need to walk around to clear your head. It would be easy enough to block off during the night. Eh?" He leaned in, smirking, and it was a test of true will not to giggle when he winked. "There is no shame in the peripatetic mode of thought."

"If you say so, my lord."

Allen shook her arm. "Celena, when will you sleep?"

"I sleep in the afternoons, anyway. And I do sleep at night, just not... all the way through. I might as well get some work done, to settle my mind. When it's quiet."

Milerna was beside herself. "I can't believe you, Dryden. This can't be healthy for her." She turned to Allen. "I was coming to see you, Allen. They're concerned about Gaddes being in the wards."

The bubbles of giddiness popped, all at once. Celena gripped her brother's hand, and Allen pulled her closer. "What is it?"

"They're talking about quarantining him. He's so weak, he might catch another illness from the healthier patients."

Gaddes was already so close to the brink. Even though he was stable, a secondary ailment would probably kill him.

"What about my bed?" blurted Celena. They all looked at her, and she shrank back. "I... I won't be using it at night. If I'm moving my things to the office, there'll be plenty of room..."

"That's a good idea," said Allen, putting his arm around Celena's shoulders. "Can he be moved, Milerna?"

She nodded. "I believe so. Your rooms are still set up for quarantine, so–"

"Then it's all settled!" said Lord Dryden. He let out a hearty laugh. "I will see you tonight, Miss Celena Schezar."

Allen twitched again.

Princess Milerna followed Lord Dryden out of the garden. "Dryden...! Do you have any idea what kind of talk this will stir up? What are you thinking–!"

Celena exhaled. She looked up as Allen touched the top of her head. "It's the best thing for Gaddes, Brother. Besides, by the time he gets better, Lord Dryden will probably change his mind again. And I really am all right by myself in the mornings." Celena tugged him over to a bench by the far wall. "You don't have to worry so much. It's just a dream."

"I ought to run him through for taking such liberties with you."

"How I missed you," Celena laughed despite herself. She sat back, surveying this corner of the garden. The vines needed cutting back. They would be all right for the time being, though. She wanted to see if they were going to catch on the nearby tree, and climb farther up. "Do you want to know what I think, Allen? I think Lord Dryden has woken to his duties. As a co-ruler."

"You've fallen for his spell, too?"

Sometimes Allen and Milerna thought entirely too much alike. "No, _no_. I don't exactly find him pleasant. He's a very strange man. But I think he does like me, and he doesn't mean me any harm. And," she said, whispering, "if he's willing to risk Milerna's favor to make this decision about me...? I just want to suggest considering that he has his reasons."

Allen sat up to get a better look at her. "And your reasons, Sister?"

"He has the books I need," Celena answered truthfully. "When this apprenticeship is done, I might be able to pursue a trade. Honestly, Allen, do you really see me languishing around the castle while you go off on adventures? Even if that's what I'm supposed to do, I really am safer with my own allies. My own connections. With people I care about, and who care about me. I need to be out in the world, someday. And I need to get along with strange people like Lord Dryden."

Leaning back, Allen was tall enough to touch the wall; he made a fist and tapped the stucco. "Celena, tell me – why do they build walled gardens?"

Celena said, gently, "Walled gardens usually have gates. They're for people to walk through. I take that back; there are hanging gardens, and water gardens, and enclosed cell gardens like in Basram. But somebody always has to walk through them. Otherwise they wouldn't be gardens."

"I forget sometimes you're supposed to be growing up. Hm. Do you want to go spring Gaddes from the infirmary?"

She brightened. "A prison break? With my brother? Of course."

*

That evening, Lord Dryden strolled into his chambers to find an artful bouquet of flowers.

He looked over at where Celena was putting away some volumes, wiping the dust off each one.

"They're beautiful, Celena," he said seriously.

She turned her head. "You and I are not going to see eye-to-eye on everything. But I wanted to thank you for what you did, this morning."

He bent to smell the blooms. "A sweet young thing like you. You deserve better than this, do you know that?"

"Yes. Thank you. One step at a time, Lord Dryden. One step a time."

*

The second night of vigil for Folken de Fanel was more tranquil.

Celena finished two illustrations, then began to catalog her findings just as she did with Lord Dryden's office. Though his death come unexpectedly, Folken had still left everything in better order than her present employer. She mapped the room, circling possible areas for further exploration, and then alternated between searching Folken's words and searching his belongings.

As near to the midnight hour as possible, she filled a bowl with water and white flowers. This time the prayers were exactly right.

"Sorry it's not Fanelian," she said to the shadows, before she closed and locked the door. Looking up Fanelian customs was likely to put her before entries about its current king. It was risky enough poking around Folken's belongings, when she might well stumble on something of his younger brother.

She fell asleep in her own sheets, though not her own bed. It was a strange feeling to have a new room with different angles. She was almost homesick, though Allen's and her rooms were not that far away. She had so looked forward to having everyone back...

She woke to sparks in the shadows.

"Brother," she said.

Allen was there. She wasn't even surprised, just threw her arms around him. He'd brewed some tea for them, too.

Greedily she insisted he sit in the bed with her, and wrapped them in a quilt for good measure. "It was a gift from Lisel. You remember her?"

"Mmhm." He sipped his tea, then turned to press a kiss on her brow.

"How is Gaddes?" she asked. She blew steam from her tea.

"His fever's breaking. But he's still asleep. We'll see."

They huddled together, brother and sister, waiting for the sun to rise.

* * *


	4. Vigil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The embers fly: Celena's dreams are coming true. But will it take a vision to be rid of Dilandau?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See [foreword](http://archiveofourown.org/works/295045/chapters/472146#main) for labels and disclaimers. Unauthorized duplication and distribution is prohibited.

Sunshine was painted red and warm on his eyelids. There was a whirr, and a buzzing in the air, like a loose gear rattling one way and then the next. Everything ached.

Gaddes cracked open an eye, and the sunshine turned golden and pale ash-blond. _Celena_. Rainbows danced on her fingertips.

His lips felt brittle, and so did his voice. "Your hair's gettin' long."

Celena dropped the cat's rattle. "Gaddes!" All of a sudden she was all over him, arms thrown over his chest. He freed a hand from the covers and plopped it on her back. She was a lot softer than he remembered. Her face turned up to him, eyes bright and worried. "How are you feeling?"

"Helluva lot better now."

She laughed. Damn, he'd missed that laugh. She lifted up and sat beside him, and he tried not to miss that weight on his chest, it was hard enough to breathe as it was. "Does anything hurt?" she asked.

He assessed. "Leg. Broke it. Kinda dizzy."

"Well, don't try to get out of bed. You have to rest. Stay there." That slim hand touched his shoulder, and he sank back down. She twisted around and leaned over to call. "Belya!"

A maid scurried in. She was wearing a medic's half-mask. "Yes, Miss? Oh."

"Go and tell my brother that Gaddes is awake."

By the look on Belya's face, she was caught between the direct request and appearances. "Miss Celena, the nurse isn't due for–"

Gaddes saw the side of Celena's mouth screw downward. "Oh honestly, then be quick about it. He won't be pleased if the whole medical wing knows, and he doesn't. Thank you, Belya." She turned back to him, and her smile couldn't be contained. Her hand slid down to catch on his fingers.

"Hey," she said softly.

He tried to search her for changes, but all he could come up with was _you look great_. Probably not the thing to say. "Hey, kid. What'd I miss?"

"Bunch of things. Not important." They stared at each other as motes swirled in the sunlight. Reluctantly she reached over and poured some water into a glass. "Here. Drink."

Her hand slipped in between him and the pillow. It was a shock to feel her with enough strength to raise him by the shoulders, and a shock to feel how weak he was, that he needed the help.

"No toast?" he said, as she cradled his head.

"Maybe another day." She tipped the glass just so, watching him carefully as he drank. Not a drop was spilled.

Gaddes let her lower him back down. Every move seemed to take an eternity, and knocked the wind out of him besides. "If it's just a broke leg, why do I feel like a ship fell on me?"

"It was the fever that laid you out. The first couple of days were... dire. You woke up a few times, do you remember that?"

His head was still swimming. "Kinda. Not really."

"Well, at the risk of costing guy-points: all the crew have been up here, one or two at a time. Kio's here the most, but I can never get him to stay for more than a few miet."

"Yeah. Good guys." He started to take in the opulent chamber: the curlicues of iron, the plaster flourishes, the pearls sewn into the curtains. "Celena... this your room?"

"Mmhm. It's a quarantine of a sort. So you wouldn't catch anything new in the infirmary." She looked around too. "Bed's kind of big for me. It's just right for you."

"Where're you bunkin'?"

"Oh, Brother's not here a lot. I use his bed, or have the cot set up."

There was dissembling there, but Gaddes couldn't quite get a bead on it. "...or right here?" He patted the dent in the mattress.

"Gotta keep an eye on you," she whispered. Shy. She swallowed. "I had to watch this very, very old man shave your face. It was a bit scary."

With his free hand, Gaddes felt around. Maybe a day's worth of stubble. "Ain't so bad."

"I don't think he was your barber." Celena drew her thumb across his sideburns.

Gaddes was fairly sure he wasn't leaning into the touch. "Not likely, no. That's the military for ya." Her hand was warm by his face. "Celena, I–"

The door swung open in the main room, and they both knew who it was before he walked in. Allen poked his head in. "Gaddes! You gave us quite a scare."

"So I heard, Boss."

Allen came up beside Celena and squeezed Gaddes's shoulder. "I hope you don't mind that we've abducted you to our rooms."

Gaddes made like he was looking around. "Eh, it's all right, I guess."

Allen chuckled. "Listen. The doctors have strict instructions for you to rest."

"I heard that, too," Gaddes said, sighing. Damn.

Brashly Allen ran his knuckles over Gaddes's forehead and along the sanguine channels. "You're still running warm, do you know that? This'll drive you crazy, old friend, but no sitting up, no trying to hobble around, don't so much as reach for anything till you're cleared for it. There's always someone here, night and day. And you have to take all of the medicine, till they're sure it's out of you."

"Yeah, yeah." A nearly identical worried look on Allen's face made him relent. "Promise, Boss. On my honor."

"Good. Those are your only orders. Don't cut 'round it, Gaddes. Milerna will be checking on you, and you know how she is."

"Heh. Gotcha."

Allen gave a curt nod. "The boys and I have it hand. It's good to see you back."

"Gettin' there."

Now he turned to his sister. "Celena," Allen said, gathering her up in a quick hug.

Gaddes almost wanted to look away. The casual happiness made his breathing easier.

"Mm. I'll see you at dinner," she said.

Allen regarded both of them. "I've got to get back." He exchanged a nod with Gaddes, and was gone.

Gaddes blinked, trying to clear his head. "How long was I out?"

Celena lifted the cover of a nearby book, which turned out to be her journal, and showed him.

"Damn. Didn't feel like it."

"You lost a lot of weight," she said softly. "They came in a couple of times to stretch you out, so your muscles wouldn't deteriorate."

"That's the drill." He tried to lie back and relax, but the cast on his leg was bothering him, and so was the look on her face. He squirmed in place.

That expression flitted away as she helped him adjust his pillows. "By the way," she said, pulling up the covers, "if you have any memory of being pawed at, those are the sponge baths. From Tomisia the night nurse."

"I was kinda wonderin'..."

"She's rather stern. She kicks us out. And if you're wondering what that taste is in the back of your mouth, that's the enriched broth. It goes down quick, but after, it's like the bottom of a stable."

"You know it, huh." It made sense – this had been her sick-bed, before.

"Yeah. After the first week, you realize you're not going to get used to it."

"Ha."

"It won't be that long, for you. As soon as the medics give the word, I'm sure you'll be switched out to real food, or at least more liquids.  
Milerna must have lit a fire under them, they come in at all hours, and– oh, here I am chatting your ear off."

Gaddes's eyes had drifted shut. He really was sapped. "Nah. Keep talkin'. Eyes are just tired." He turned toward her voice. "Any rule on crackin' the window? Haven't smelled the sea air in a while."

He heard her get up. "Of course. I'll draw the curtains, though." She worked the old windows without jiggling them around, just a firm push and a quick whine of metal hinges. The curtains closed all the way; the glare on his eyelids dimmed. "I'm sorry I wouldn't see you off, after that day by the fountains," she said.

"You were sayin' goodbye. Thought that's what those were for."

She was close, again, and he really wanted to see how close. "I still should've gotten out of bed. Instead of feeling sorry for myself."

Gaddes wet his lips. "What happened? Allen wouldn't let on. Knew it was bad; everybody did."

"If it had been that bad, the Crusade wouldn't have left port," Celena said. A bit tart, as though she'd guessed how many nights he'd lain in his bunk and worried. "I just– I had a fit. In front of everyone. In front of the king. They started talking about... the ruler of Fanelia." Her voice wavered. "And his guymelef. Dilandau just..."

Instinctively his hand reached out for her, and she grasped it. Hanging on. He said, "Did ya do anything?"

"No. I kept him down. Allen got me out of there, too." She took a deep breath; her grip became less tense. Gaddes swept his thumb over her hand, listening to her breathe. "Looking back at it, it's still so strange. I don't bear a grudge on him. It was all Dilandau. It's too bad; I'd like to know more about him. He must be a nice guy for Dilandau to hate him so much."

Gaddes began to chuckle. "You are incredible." This time he pried his eyes open, and was rewarded with her smile. "Missed ya."

"I missed you too. You do have to get better. My hair _is_ getting kind of long. It'll tickle my shoulders soon enough."

"Can't ya find any good help in this whole town?"

She squeezed his hand. "It's not the same. Gaddes."

*

It was peculiar being roommates with both of the Schezars, and even moreso because their days seemed to be out of a dice cup.

When they were all three together, it was surprisingly loose and comfortable. They included him as naturally as if he were part of the family, and he only had to stay out of it when one or the other got riled with some high emotion. Celena caught them up on gossip, Allen teased his little sister, or she would ask them about something she thought she'd forgotten and they'd endeavor to explain it to her. But those two were bouncing around so much that these gatherings were seldom.

Gaddes could figure out Allen's agenda well enough, just from experience. To his chagrin, between games of thirkat and nine-mills Gaddes also gathered that the Crusade would be underway while he was still recuperating. That put Allen on the spot for preparations (though Gaddes was assured that they could get it turned around without him.) It was a rare day when Allen could sit for a while and drink some wine and shoot the breeze.

That usually left Celena to sit with him in the daytime. There were a lot of nurses hovering around, and Princess Milerna – as threatened – visited daily, but it always seemed to be Celena plumping his pillows. Or feeding him soup. Or making him take his medicine. By herself. He guessed they didn't think he was gonna get far in his condition.

–even if she fell asleep at his side almost every afternoon, curled up in her chair, her head tucked by his elbow. He'd have to extract some book from her hands, mark the page with a hairpin or paper scrap, and then sit there. Trying not to touch her. If he was lucky, he'd fall asleep too.

He was picking up a lot of details about her. It took his mind off the stupid crap he had to do to please the medics, but he wasn't sure that was a good thing. He could see what she kept on her desk, in her closet, how she arranged her flowers every day. She didn't display a single page out of her piles of illustrations, but she always kept one object of Allen's in plain sight. She liked running around barefoot. She didn't wear any perfume, just the powder the keepers used to keep bugs off.

And most intimately, she showed him all the daily treatments she needed just to keep Dilandau nailed down. It was inducement to get him to take his own drugs, but instead it left him staggered. He'd had no idea. Celena told him it was just a precaution, but it was _some_ precaution. She spoke of tapering it off, someday; Gaddes got the feeling she and Allen had just accepted it as routine.

Gaddes was sleeping so often, too, that it was a while before he realized Celena wasn't going to bed in the middle of the night. She was outright disappearing. Sometimes it was a guard or a nurse letting on that she wasn't in the next room. Sometimes he'd have a vague recollection of Celena coming back in the hatch-hours. And of the bed sinking when she sat down beside him.

He didn't twig to it till she started explaining what exactly she was doing for Lord Dryden.

"Well, some of it is cataloging. There are books in that pile he hasn't seen since he was baby. Or so he says. And if he really likes a book, he'll want me to transcribe passages onto parchment. Just copying and a little sketching. Those are delivered to my room – my office, I guess – and when they're done, I take them back to Lord Dryden's chambers the next morning."

"Same day?" Gaddes said, frowning.

"Uhm. No. The next day."

"Overnight? That's his turnaround?" Gaddes couldn't wrap his head around it.

"It's more... mine. They don't like it when I wander around the castle in the middle of the night," she admitted ruefully. "So I have a wing to myself. And I won't disturb Allen when he comes in to sleep. Lord Dryden doesn't actually have any deadlines. I have to make them for him."

Gaddes pictured Dryden walling her up with books, and Allen knocking them all down. "All that to fatten your purse. You saving up for somethin'?"

"Maybe," she grinned briefly. "It was for security while you guys were away. And he does teach me a lot. Kind of."

"Kind of?" Gaddes repeated suspiciously.

Celena set aside the book in her hand and showed him the book on her knee. "He teaches me the alphabets, and then he drops these lexicons on me. But he hardly shows me any grammar. I have to figure it out myself. Or ask him what something means. Don't ask me how to speak any of this, I'd probably botch it from the first syllable. That's it. All day long – I look up words. It does make the 'reading' go quickly, though, because at the end of it I'm just skimming to the good parts."

She made to close the lexicon, but Gaddes put a finger on the pages and turned it 'round to the cover. "Celena... this is a Zaibach book."

She froze. Then her lashes swept down, and she opened the cover to a plate with the face of Emperor Dornkirk.

"I'm not really doing this for the money," she confessed.

Gaddes levered himself up on his elbow. "I guess your brother doesn't know about this."

"He doesn't. They're all Lord Dryden's papers, too."

"Whoa, yeah, Allen's gonna blow his stack." Now he studied her face, and the way her hands folded over the gilded letters. "Celena, have you been havin' fits from these? From reading about 'em? In that room of yours – all by yourself?"

She shrugged. "Every now and then. They're not so bad after a while."

"Not so–! Celena, what the hell happened while we were gone?"

"A lot of things." She glanced away, but certainty drew her out of her huddle, lengthened the lines of her neck like a flower bending for sun. She opened her hands like she was reading her palms. "I realized I can't keep depending on Dilandau to tell me what happened to me. I mean, Zaibach created him to forget. He was never supposed to know what was happening. So if he doesn't know, and I don't know, I'll never find out."

Gaddes sighed. "But do you have to hurt yourself?"

Celena looked up. "It doesn't hurt. Being away from you... and Brother – that hurt." Her fingers curled up on her knees. "They're just memories, Gaddes. I was right the first time. Dilandau can't hurt me. But if I don't know what I keep seeing, I'm never going to be able to deal with it."

He shook his head. "Some flashbacks don't work that way. Guys have gone their whole lives knowing exactly what happened, knowin' they didn't have a choice, and it doesn't make it go away. You gotta be careful, Celena. What good is diggin' around the past if it hurts you now?"

"What good is it if it holds me back? I have to try. Remember when we joked about Dilandau not having a childhood? I didn't have one either. Mine stopped before I turned six years old. I'm this way – I'm this person because Zaibach raised me. I wish it were different. But I can't keep avoiding it."

Gaddes sank back to catch his breath. Gods above and below, he'd somehow forgotten what this girl could do. At least he could read this well enough. "You've just got to know where you came from," he said knowingly.

"Yes." Relief softened her voice. "I'm tired of being blindsided. I have to live with what he left me. Body and soul."

"I guess nothing's stopping you, huh."

She sat back, propping her feet on the edge of the bed. "To speak truth, Gaddes, I don't know if what I'm doing is the right move. But I can't help thinking: I don't want to leave that little girl behind. Allen can't come in and save her, every time. I have to find out what happened to her. To me."

"I'm... gonna regret askin' this."

"But you're gonna, anyway?" That little half-smile.

"What have you found out?"

"Mm. Not much that's useful. It's all about Dornkirk, and his machines. The guymelefs. The stealth cloaks. The liquid metal. The Destiny Engine, though no one quite knows how it works. All of _that_ is documented. What they did to me, and others? There's almost nothing written down. All I can find are rumors." Celena spread her toes in a patch of sun. But Gaddes caught how the knuckles on her hands whitened. "My figures are rough, but I think there could have been hundreds of children taken for my project. I was one of the lucky ones."

Gaddes was suddenly chilled. "What do you mean..."

"Most of them died, Gaddes. Died or went insane. I know it's hard to believe – Dilandau was stable. He was... the best they had."

What he wouldn't give to get up and take her in his arms. Tell her it was all right. But he could barely move, and she probably wouldn't believe that. He wasn't sure he believed that either. They stared at each other instead, the horror settling over like loose ash.

Gaddes found his voice. "I've heard a lot of bottom-of-the-shit-pail things, but that takes all."

"Yeah," agreed Celena. She folded her arms together. "I hope one day I can find the rest of them, or their families. Tell them what really happened."

 _Hundreds of children._

"You're amazing." With an effort, he pulled himself higher on the bed. The world slid around for a miet, but eventually leveled off. "Celena, I don't know if it's gonna get through that stubborn head of yours. You shouldn't be doin' this alone, no back-up, nobody to tell ya that's enough. Now hang on," he said, forestalling her next argument, "Hear me out. I ain't got a thing to do for a while. Allen's not letting me back on till I'm all healed up." Or until after the Crusade got back from wherever they were headed. "Seems to me what you need is a second."

Oh, there was that smile. "Just you?"

"If the first guy drops his weapon, the back-up steps in. No honor's lost."

"I... I don't know how you could help."

Gaddes shrugged. "I've been runnin' after your brother all these years, trying to keep him in one piece. How hard could it be?"

And there was that laugh. _She could lift ships with that._ Celena got to her feet and placed her hands on his shoulders till he settled back. "I'll think about it. Right now, the only thing you have to do is get better."

"So I gotta sit here under the covers and watch you go crazy," he groused.

"What do you mean, 'go'?" She smiled. "I don't need to look up most of these words," she said, holding up the Zaibach lexicon. "I just know them. And I have a good idea of how they did things in the Empire. I might be able to find something that no one else can. Something that'll help someone who was in the war."

"What about you?"

"There also might be a cure in there. Or a way to figure it out. All of those," she gestured to the locked medicine drawer, "treat the symptoms. I can go about my business like anybody else. But to live a normal life...? I don't know what that's like. Maybe I can find out."

He watched her gather her books. Off to her hidden tower. Back again for breakfast like nothing was amiss. "Hey. You're doin' better than some of us with normal lives."

She pulled her apron over her head, and tucked her books on her hip. Then, at the threshold, she stopped, leaning on the stone arch. "Gaddes..." She turned to look at him, worrying at the inside of her lip. "...I'll see you tomorrow." And off she went, leaving Gaddes to fall into an uneasy doze.

*

Gaddes grew more and more restless the longer his confinement lasted. Celena noted that their little teasing exchanges became progressively grumpier on his end. Which just made her tease him more. Neither realized how much they were raising their voices until one day Allen came in and asked them if they needed to be separated.

"Sorry I snapped at ya, kid," Gaddes said afterward, when everyone else had gone.

"Oh, come on. You weren't snapping."

"Yeah I–!" Gaddes stopped himself. "I'd just like to get outta here. Your room's real nice and you're... those jerks won't even let me sit up without their say."

"You can sit up now," Celena pointed out mildly. "You were getting dizzy spells before." She fetched a laden tray and uncovered it. "Here. Eat your lunch."

"Pudding. Great." But he looked slightly less grumpy as she stirred it with a spoon. "You gonna feed me?"

"Works for the owl."

He made a face at her. "I got two hands that work, you know."

"You just don't like being fussed over," said Celena. She aimed a spoonful, making sure the excess syrup was back in the bowl. "Unless it's me. Well, sit up already, you were so keen on it."

Gaddes glared at her as he claimed his first bite. Then his eyes widened. "That's those 'pearls'! They can only get 'em out of that lake in Cesario. I haven't tasted these in years. Did you... How'd you get a hold of 'em?"

"I have my ways." Celena tamped back her smile.

Gaddes leaned in for the next mouthful, then paused. "If you're gonna feed me, you're gonna have to feed me slow. I know they don't come in anything but those tiny jars."

"Fair enough," she said with a laugh. She sidled up closer for a better angle.

She watched his eyes fall shut as he worked the taste of it around his palate. She felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck, and bit her lip. Down in the kitchens she'd sampled a little, and knew how the flavor came out in intense bursts.

He opened his eyes. "Thanks, Celena. How'd you even know I liked those?"

She smiled. "I _was_ paying attention to your stories." She dipped the spoon. "Hasn't anyone ever fussed over you before?"

"How do you mean?" He lipped at the pudding, twice, his gaze on her this time.

"I... this might be improper to ask."

"You're gonna ask it anyway." He swallowed, then shrugged. "Go ahead. Worst that could happen is I don't answer."

Celena kept her eyes on the next spoonful. "The girls were wondering about you. They asked me if you'd ever been married or engaged or anything like that."

"Nah. I could never find a girl who'd stand for sharing me with the Crusade. Heck, that last long posting, when we were at the fort – I lost a girl over that. She just stopped writing. Heard later she eloped with some sailor, so go figure." He looked down. She was holding the food under his nose. "I shouldn't be tellin' you stuff like that." But he sat up and sucked the spoon clean anyway.

"I shouldn't be asking."

He popped the pearls in his mouth, chewing slowly. "It's put to rest, anyway. I want to start a family, but how am I supposed to do that, proper? Away all the time, miss all those moments with your kids, never there for 'em. Ain't fair to whatever lady takes up with me."

"Soldiers do it all the time," she said. She raised the spoon. To her consternation, she realized her hand was shaking.

Suddenly Gaddes caught her by the wrist, startling her. He held her in place; if he wanted to, he could have dragged her closer, such was the strength in his grip. Catching her expression, he slowed up, his eyes apologetic, and took his mouthful with his hand wrapped tight around hers.

He swallowed it down. His eyes didn't leave hers. "I've seen what soldiers do," he said quietly. He let go.

Celena let the spoon drop into the bowl. Uncertainty hung between them – but it wasn't an awful, ponderous uncertainty. She searched his face for signs of upset, and found him doing the same. It was just... being lost about the way ahead, not being lost about themselves. At least they weren't lost _and_ alone.

They didn't touch each other. Her wrist burned.

Gaddes broke the silence. "I don't like being cooped up. That's the truth of it."

She nodded. "I can understand that." She slid to her feet, brushing his shoulder reassuringly as she walked past. "Miet, miet."

She poured water into two glasses. One she handed to Gaddes. He drew his good knee up, still under covers, and there she sat beside him, his leg solid on her side. Barrier and connection all at once.

The crystal glasses rang and resonated through the room. They grinned at each other – spell broken.

"A toast. To being fussed over," Celena said.

Gaddes winked at her as he drank. _We'll figure it out. Just not today._

There were no words after that. Celena took up the bowl again, and propped her elbow on his raised knee. Gaddes stuffed his hands under the blankets, and she fed him the rest of the pearls.

*

Everyone on the Crusade seemed to find out at the same time when Gaddes's 'quarantine' was lifted. No more masks for visitors. No more fifteen miet of washing before entering the suite. With crutches finally arriving from the quartermaster, Gaddes was even allowed out on the balcony, though Allen usually had to be there. So there was a steady crowd to see him, which cheered him up considerably.

One day Celena went out with her girlfriends to deliver flowers to the infirmary, and to run some errands in advance of her afternoon nap. She returned to the sound of company in her occupied room. She smiled, hitching up the basket of fresh linens and clothes, and followed it inside.

Gaddes was holding court on the bed, his broken leg propped up on a chair. "It's a beltin', for sure. I mean, look at me, I'm weak as a kit in a den."

"You look like that time we got rolled by those guys in Gardzia," said Riden.

"Yeah! That's it. 'Cept the guys have clubs this time." He looked up at her arrival. "Celena."

"Hello Gaddes. Hello Riden. Got your laundry! Some of it is Allen's, so I have to sort it out. Budge over." She took over the side of the bed he wasn't on, and sat right next to Gaddes.

Riden leered. "What've you been doin' all this time? You lyin' around with the Boss's sister?"

Celena didn't miss a beat. "Oh, don't start another rumor." She added a light kick in the shins to her censure. "These are our rooms. I've been here the whole time. And so has Allen. Gaddes needs rest; this is where he's resting."

"Sorry, 'Lena."

"Ugh," she burst out, throwing herself back on the mattress. "Who am I kidding? There's all kinds of talk about me. If you believe the gossips, I'm sleeping with him," she pointed at Gaddes, "and Lord Dryden, and my brother's going to skewer one or both of them. It's crazy."

Riden peered around the suite. "But you two are here alone..." Gaddes winced. However, Riden poked her arm and said, "So what _are_ you doin' with Lord Dryden? The Boss hates 'im."

"He's teaching me. He has books about my past."

"Oh I get it – Schezar family history. The Boss doesn't talk about it much."

Gaddes recovered. "And neither will you," he said sharply.

"Aye aye," said Riden easily. At least Gaddes could feel assured that Riden would take any order to heart. "Well I gotta say, 'Lena, you look a million times better than when we pulled you out last year."

"Thank you." Celena sat up, and began separating garments. "You fellows had a lot to do with it."

Gaddes tore himself away from the horror of Celena rooting through his underclothes to catch Riden _blushing_. "Aw, 'Lena. We didn't do nothin'."

"You really did," insisted Celena. "I could barely leave this room without Allen. I had to get used to everybody I met, before I could even talk to them. I mean... it still happens, but it's not as bad as it used to be." She sighed, holding up one of Allen's shirts. "And now you're all off and away again. You'll take good care of each other, right?"

"Oh yeah," said Riden seriously. "We'll come back better lookin' than this guy."

"Go fuck y'rself," Gaddes said without thinking. Now it was Riden's turn to stare. Celena's lips turned up just so, but she didn't say anything. "...you guys still keeping us in the dark?"

"'Bout the mission? Boss hasn't told us yet, either. As long as you ain't comin' along... tough luck, Gaddes."

"Eh, it's alright. I was just makin' sure. We'll keep an eye on each other, huh, Celena?"

She shook out a pillowcase, shivering an eyelid at Gaddes. "It'll be nice to finally get some peace and quiet, especially after they move you back to your place–"

"See what I gotta put up with," said Gaddes to Riden.

"–and maybe when I put a fruit bowl out, someone will leave me one or two pieces."

Riden grinned. "And there ain't nothin' you can do, on account of the Boss."

"I pick that fruit myself, you know," said Celena with mock-annoyance.

"Yeah, well, Gaddes'll do you well in a pinch," said Riden, rather loyally. "Even with his bum leg, they start any loose talk 'bout you, he can take care of 'em." He got up to clap hands with Gaddes. "Just not how you did in Gardzia, alright?"

"Hah, yeah. You watch your hide, Riden."

Riden made to go, then he offered his hand to Celena, as he had with Gaddes. She grasped it and shook it just like a sailor. "Take care of our boy," said Riden. "We need 'im back."

"We'll do our best," smiled Celena. "Goodbye, Riden!"

Gaddes repossessed his pile of laundry, and set it aside. "That was slick," he said.

"Hm?"

"Riden can spot a scam from leagues away." Gaddes nudged her gently. "That was some shell-flip – you slipped a couple of fat ones right past him."

"Which ones are you talking about?" Celena said innocently.

Gaddes chuckled. He swung his broken leg back into bed. "If you'd not take offense to it... you're pretty good at lying."

"You sound impressed."

And was that a sin, or what. "I'm no knight, if that's what you're thinkin'. Just something I noticed. Watch yourself, though; good liars are good at lying to themselves, too."

Celena got up. "Would you help me, please?" She held up one of the larger sheets. Gaddes found his corners, and she spread her arms to separate hers. "I've been thinking about that," she said.

They brought their own corners together, then Celena came up close, their hands coming together for the next fold.

"Yeah?" said Gaddes. He was close enough to smell her skin; she made no mention of it.

"Maybe I had to lie." She sat at his side, finishing up the folding. "The more I read about what Dilandau's done – I don't know how I could have borne all of that, without lying to myself."

Gaddes shrugged. Tentatively he opened his hand. She placed her hand on it, weaving her fingers between his. "I don't know how you do it right now," he said.

"If I was really watching... Maybe I had to tell myself it wasn't really happening, just to get through it. I mean, I still don't know for certain what's going on now, but I think perhaps my fits are when the memories get too vivid and too real. That's when I can't deny it."

Gaddes frowned. "So when you start screaming, that's you. Not Dilandau."

"I still think he's there. I can't explain the... the Fanelia thing. But yeah..." She leaned on his shoulder. "Crying out for the pain I've caused. Not the pain I've felt."

"You didn't cause it. None of it."

"I know. It just doesn't feel that way." She turned her palm over in his hand. She'd worked to put new calluses on her hands, but the old shadows were still there. Curious, she dragged her fingertip across Gaddes's larger hand, mapping out the terrain of his daily life. He had more scars than she did. "What's a shell-flip?" she said absently.

"Oh, it's a scam. Not somethin' a proper lady needs to know." But he was looking around the room with a speculative eye.

Celena lifted her head. "You're going to show me anyway."

"If we do it quick before the Boss gets back." Gaddes coughed. "I mean, so you don't get taken in by it, you ought to know how it works. All we need is a table, and if you've got a bead or a marble or somethin'... no, not that table. That's got a lip." He reached over for three drinking glasses. Celena popped open the cat's rattle and took out a marble. "Perfect. Let me show ya."

Celena knelt on the bed as Gaddes moved the glasses around, tracking the path of the trapped marble, following along with Gaddes's voice and the rhythmic scrape of glass on wood. "–so the mark thinks, yeah, I can do that too. And he puts his coins down. They let him win at least once. And then–" Without changing the form of his hands, Gaddes made the marble disappear.

Celena laughed. "That's great! I mean, it's not great for the mark."

"Nope. There's the last step – 'run like hell' – but you get the idea."

"May I try?" She went around to the other side of the table. Gaddes rolled the marble under a glass.

They bent their heads together, Gaddes moving her hands just so, and Celena keeping the rhythm steady. Light caught on the glasses as they spun around the table. A few low laughs, and a few dropped marbles, and Celena began to learn the feel of it, the simple glide of deception.

"Alright, now here's the tricky part," said Gaddes softly. "Look up at me. No, don't stop. Keep on turning 'em."

She raised her eyes, and met his steady gaze. A small smile touched his lips.

Gaddes murmured, "The flip's about distraction. So if you're the one movin' the marble around, you can't get distracted. By anything."

Celena could feel a warm flush over her face. Nevertheless she kept her hands moving.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

"You gotta keep the mark occupied," Gaddes said. "Now, start talkin'."

"About what?" said Celena.

Gaddes's smile widened. "Tell me what you learned today."

"You're awful," Celena whispered. But her hands moved as though they had a mind of their own, and she stared into his eyes and answered.

*

Her last night of vigil for Folken de Fanel might have passed uneventfully, if not for a knock on the door of her office. Celena snapped out of tracing symbols on her palm, flipped marking ribbons on all the open books, and rolled to sit on the edge of the bed. Who would want to visit her here, at this hour? The knock didn't belong to a guard. It was too late for even Princess Eries. "Come in!"

"So here's where you've been holed up."

"Gaddes!" She started to go over to help him, but he waved her off, closing the door one-handed. He was pretty quick on the crutches anyway.

He surveyed the chambers while she cleared books off the last available chairs. "They gave you a whole suite? Washroom too?"

"That's all they have in this part of the castle. It's actually old servants' quarters."

"You haven't been in your room since I moved out..." They'd all had a nice dinner there too, a proper leave-taking with good wine, fresh bread, and the real, solid food Gaddes had been craving – just her and Allen and his crew.

"Sorry," she said. Gaddes started for the bed, so she grabbed those books too. "It's been too quiet without any roommates. At least here–" She gestured around the room. Sketches of Zaibach contraptions, meandering timelines, lists of names, and other notes covered sections of wall. Now that Allen was gone, she didn't have to take it all down. The three notebooks she was working on lay open on the bed and the desk.

Here, there was work to occupy her. There were always goals and conundrums and memories to follow her into sleep, and when she came out again to the visceral clang of metal on metal, she could go right back to being occupied. It was a room of so many words; yet it was strange to have someone inside to break the silence. She didn't even bring Natal in here.

Gaddes hobbled to the bed, but he didn't sit down. "Ah, I just wanted to find you. In case you needed this." He produced a pair of scissors.

"Oh!" Unconsciously Celena touched her hair. "I forgot all about that."

"If you want to," Gaddes reiterated. He gestured at the bed. "I thought about askin' you in the garden, but people might talk."

Celena sat on the mattress before him, and gingerly he settled down as well. It occurred to her that no one had interrupted them yet. "How did you get rid of my guards?"

Gaddes grinned. "What, this again? It's me, come on."

A laugh burbled out. "Just you. What's this?" she said, as he took out a bundle and spread it around her.

"It's a cloak. I remembered it this time. Keeps the hair off your clothes."

Though she was certain they were alone, she was whispering. "Are you sure you don't need more light?"

"It's good enough. No problem."

"Wait," she said. She sensed Gaddes tensing. "Lisel said you're supposed to wet it. Don't get up, I've got it." She went over to the bowl and pitcher she'd set aside, and poured a little water. After a hesitation, she scooped some with her hand and dampened her hair.

Gaddes watched her shake off the excess. "No wonder those guys charge a load to cut girls' hair."

Celena laughed lowly. "That's because most of you have short hair. If Brother ever cut his, they'd have to dunk him in the ocean." She sat down and turned her back to him.

"Blasphemy," pronounced Gaddes. He took a deep breath, and started combing her hair. "Were you just givin' me a pass 'cause I was laid up?"

"I've been so busy." She did complain, but her hair wasn't hanging _that_ long.

"Didn't think you were going to hold out. But I figured you were due."

"Oh?" Though it did feel... nice to have someone else run a comb through it.

He drew a strand off her brow. "The other day, you pushed it out of the way thirty-two times."

Celena willed herself to stay still. She wished she'd angled herself to the mirror, she wanted to see his face so badly. "You counted?"

"It was that or watch the grass grow," he said lightly. "Straight line, about here, right?"

"Yes," said Celena faintly.

The scissors played a counterpoint to their quiet breaths. Celena told herself it was the brush of cold metal making her tremble. Gaddes brushed a stray lock off her neck, and she clenched her hands to keep from squeaking. It was just... different to be here in the dark, in her private chambers, with any trace of Allen nowhere to be found. After hours of shivering through grueling material and a lonely night, Gaddes was close, welcome heat.

His thumb brushed her earlobe.

"...Celena? Do you want me to stop?" His whisper sounded so close.

"Just cut it off," she murmured. "I forgot how heavy it feels."

He cut it straight-true, section by section, then trimmed it close along her nape. Like a man's cut. She was oddly comforted by this.

Abruptly she realized she had a hand on his knee. She just didn't want to move.

"Alright," he said, far too quickly. "I think that's it. Aw, hang on. You've got clippings stickin' on." Gently he started to comb them out. "...you wanna pick it out, or...?"

"Could you? Please?"

After a moment, she felt his hand on her shoulder, and the other began to sweep through her hair. Tiny prickles rained on her neck. Or maybe that was the gooseflesh. She felt like she was floating, but her heart was beating so fast, like it wanted to spread through her chest.

The strokes sooned slowed, and halted. She felt him untie the cloak, folding it in and rolling it up. She stayed still as he moved around her, a touch here, a breath there; she had spent so many nights inhaling shadows that she'd forgotten what it was like to stand by a fire.

"Celena?" A shred of worry, there.

"Gaddes... please don't take this the wrong way... I just... could you...?" At last she gave up on speaking, and just twisted around and hugged him.

Instinctively he curled an arm around her back, and tucked her cool head under his chin. "What's this about?"

She shook her head. "Thank you," she said softly. She pressed close against his side. He began to rub her back, and for the first time she realized how much tension had been coiled there. She wanted to say more. All the words were balled up. It was all she could do to hang on and breathe in his familiar scent.

Gaddes noticed it too. "Wallflower," he said under his breath. Then he straightened, craning at something. "Celena, are those charnel flowers?"

She nodded. She drew a breath, willing herself to form words. "There's something I have to show you." Reluctantly she sat up, fished through her pockets, and came up with a key.

It was the work of a moment to replace the water in the bowl, and gather all the necessary supplies. She got him to lean on her as well as the crutches, as much to ground her as to support his weight. They made their way down the desolate corridor till they arrived at the sole locked door.

She let them in. Folken's chambers were almost identical to her own, but the air seemed so different, so oppressive and sad.

Gaddes went in a few steps, then stood there for a whole miet. "This is where Lord Folken stayed," he said at last. He squeezed her shoulder gently.

"Yes." She drew closer to him. It was easier to speak, now. "I probably shouldn't tell you about this. This is why Lord Dryden gave me a room close by."

"And this is what you've really been working on?"

"This is the basis," Celena said. "It's where I get all my leads. Lord Folken was here for so short a time; I've found six notebooks that were almost all filled up. There might even be more." She reached up and tangled her fingers with Gaddes's. "I keep wandering from the research notes, and reading his personal journal instead. It takes forever just to translate a sentence, but he says a lot in a few words. He knew he was dying, Gaddes. Because of everything Zaibach did to him."

Gaddes glanced at her sharply. Leaning on his crutch, he turned her around to look at her. "Are you–?"

"The Zone of Ultimate Fortune," she said in answer to his fear. The scene of the final battle. Where her life started again. Where it returned every morning. "There must have been a true wish to save me – Celena – to let me live. If not for that... I don't know." _Why didn't the sparks ever burn...?_

Gaddes couldn't take his eyes off her. "He didn't let on. Don't think Allen knew, either. When he was here, when we were mustering, he didn't do anything but try to stop Zaibach."

"Gaddes, the most incredible part? Through all that, he was looking for answers about me. With all the horrible things he created, he had nothing to do with the project which made Dilandau." She gripped his arm, blinking away dizzyness. "He was disturbed by it. I think he was looking for a way to cure me."

He steered her toward the desk, and lit the lantern there. She'd left a tray of her own notes there, the only bit of disarray in the whole room. He leaned over it while she fell into the chair. "And it's all in code? Damn, Celena. This is the work of a lifetime."

"He tried to cram it all into whatever life he had left." She leaned on Gaddes. Her tired eyes nearly closed as he patted the top of her head. "He was trying to pass it on. To leave it to someone. He had whole other journals written in Fanelian, even Draconian. Just for ... for his brother."

Van Fanel. "Celena. How do you get through _that_ without a fit?"

"I don't," she said. "Not really. I read bits and pretend that Folken's talking to me, instead of... I feel awful about it. It's easy to do with Folken, though. Even on the page, his words show no emotion." She swallowed. She had to talk, or everything balled up would drag her down. It was simpler with Gaddes actually there in the dark with her. "He sounds like me, sometimes. He could be hurt, so badly, and it just wouldn't show. I catch myself like that – when I just don't feel it. I know I should, but I don't. And then you... or my brother, or my friends... show me such kindness, that I feel it in my heart, that I can _feel_ again. I don't know what I would do without you."

Gaddes settled against the desk. She laid her head on his lap, and wept.

His hand on her head was gentle. His voice was, too. "You do the same for us, Celena. You're the kindest person I know."

When she opened her eyes again, she couldn't see. Gaddes had the candle behind him; the shadows always seemed deeper in this room.

And yet it was... all right. It was a different kind of peace to be found while shivering in the dark, with the sun-tide far away. She'd let the horrors build up, but she thought she understood now: she didn't have to wait for the sunshine to banish those horrors away. If she were ever in the dark again, she would never be alone.

She got to her feet and slipped her arms around Gaddes in a grateful embrace.

His stubble scratched her cheek as she lifted her head to look at him. They were nose-to-nose like this, but it took a few seconds for her vision to discern the white of his eyes, the size of his pupils.

Then he looked up at the moons shining through a gap in the curtains. "It's past midnight. Were you gonna spread the water?"

She nodded, and looked around for the water bowl. "It's the last night. Do you know the prayers?"

"Yeah," said Gaddes instantly.

She touched his hand, understanding.

He took the bowl, and she filled it with flowers. In the darkness the white petals were luminous, as though she were breaking off pearls from her fingers. They spoke the benediction together, heads bowed, their voices folding into each other – his deep murmur and her flute-like whisper. Ever after, Celena would never forget the sound. Then they made a circuit of the room. Silence as they dispersed the water. The patter of her feet and the shuffle and thump of his crutches. And again, and again, and again.

 _As the sun, as the sea, as the wind._

After, Celena gathered a few papers to take with her. The room was still sad, but there was a peace about it. Or perhaps she felt at peace – like peace was a location, and all there was to do was navigate to it. She was glad that phrase existed in Asturian. "You know, I hear him whistling sometimes. Probably some Fanelian song. I do have memories of it, so maybe that's all it is. Just the echoes in my head when I'm tired and sleepy. Other times, I'm not so sure."

"Well, thanks to you, he can rest, now." Gaddes tugged at a curtain. Celena helped open all of them; they left the room full of moonlight.

Celena covered a yawn. "Do you think he was watching over me?"

"I dunno, Celena. You probably knew him better than I did." There was a short silence as they took that in. "...I know for sure you were watchin' out for him. You're doin' it now, goin' through all the stuff he left behind."

She held open her door so she wouldn't be tempted to help Gaddes when he didn't want it. "Folken was such a large part of the Empire. Of the war. I don't even know if I can forgive him."

"One thing I've learned from your brother," said Gaddes, "you don't need to forgive somebody to show mercy. Aw, come on, Celena," he said, pivoting, "You're havin' a tougher time staying on your feet than I am. Hit your bunk, already."

Ushered into bed and under the covers, Celena protested, though not too strongly. "I'm going to read some more. Gaddes, don't turn out the lamp."

"I'm just trimming it. So it'll go out after you're asleep." He sat back down on the bed beside her. She looked up at him as she lay there, the light flickering over her face.

She glanced at the lamp. At the flame eating up its shortened wick. The heaviness of sleep fell away from her eyelids; they opened, wide.

Gaddes moved to gather up his crutches. At that moment, as though a string had been cut, Celena sat up and grabbed his hand. He turned to her. They faced each other, shoulder to shoulder, hands clasped between them.

"I should have let you see me before you left," she said in a rush.

The light fell across half his face, catching his widening eyes. He looked down at their joined hands, at her narrow shoulder pressed near his heart. "You already said that."

Anywhere but into her eyes.

She shook her head. "Folken died without reconciling with... with his brother. He wasn't hated, but he wasn't trusted. There were so many things he wanted to say. He died before he got the chance – the day I was returned to my brother. Gaddes, on the day they took me, we didn't run out the door thinking anything would happen. I got another chance. Folken didn't." She closed her eyes, briefly, and when she opened them, her cheeks were wet. "When I saw you there, lying so still ... I realized what a terrible mistake I'd made. Me, of all people. _I should have known better_."

Gaddes turned his head. The knot in his throat jumped. "I'm here now."

She grasped his hand as though she doubted it. No–as though she feared it wouldn't be so in the next miet. "There are so many things I want to say to you. But I don't know if I can."

"Is it gonna hurt you to keep it in?"

"No. It might hurt you to hear it."

They stared at each other. Neither of them loosened their grip. Finally Gaddes spoke. "Whatever you gotta say, whenever you've gotta say it. I'll listen. Might be a fuckin' bad idea, but I'll do it."

Celena let out an exhausted sigh. A million thoughts ran through her mind, like blood through a heart, but she would welcome sleep right now, with Gaddes locked beside her. She laid her brow on his shoulder. "Love," she said softly. "So this is what my brother hates so much."

Gaddes breathed a laugh. Tucked there between them, his hand untangled from hers, so he could press their palms together. Their fingers twined. A sailor's knot.

"Celena–"

She cut him off. "I promised my brother I wouldn't give myself up carelessly. It's not for lack of care. It's just that I don't have a self to give." Her voice became very small. "Whatever you were going to ask, please don't ask it. Not yet."

Suddenly there was warm pressure on her back, along the nape of her neck, cupping her cheek, raising her chin. She looked up at Gaddes with huge, startled eyes.

He said quietly. "So is this the line of it – you don't know where he stops and you start. You don't wanna give yourself, if you're not even sure what that is. On the mark?"

For a moment she was speechless. His free hand was warm and rough against her cheek, and offered no resistance. And his mouth was so close. "Thank you," she said at last. She closed her eyes... and leaned into his touch. He stroked her face gently. Wiping away the tears. "You always understand. Thank you."

"You're still hard to read, Celena. I think I'm gettin' the hang of it, though." He pulled away; she remembered how to breathe. With their joined hands, he nudged her, and she fell back to the mattress. She might as well have floated.

He started to pull the covers up. But to do that with just one leg for leverage, he had to lean on his arm. Lean in. As he loomed over her, close enough to reach up and touch his chest, she began to laugh. Helplessly. Sleepily.

Gaddes grinned down at her. He dipped low enough to whisper in her ear. "Listen. You already know what I was gonna ask."

She nodded, quieting down.

His voice lowered. "And I think I know what you wanna tell me." She shivered. "So we're square, all right? If we miss a goodbye, don't feel bad about it. They never do much good, anyway."

"Alright," she said. She listened to him hop around and gather his things to leave. Her eyes were closed, she realized. "...Gaddes? Thanks for the haircut."

He laughed. "As long as it keeps that head on your shoulders."

She listened to him limp off, and she was suddenly worried over the distance back to his room. "Do you need anything else?" she called softly.

Gaddes stopped short. "Need?" The door creaked. Two breaths. Three. "...Nah. See you tomorrow, Celena."

"Good night," she said, or dreamed.

* * *


	5. Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The embers fly: Celena's dreams are coming true. But will it take a vision to be rid of Dilandau?  
> [Warning: cliffhanger posting break for the weekend.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See [foreword](http://archiveofourown.org/works/295045/chapters/472146#main) for labels and disclaimers. Unauthorized duplication and distribution is prohibited.

"We shouldn't be doing this."

Gaddes smirked over his shoulder, the cold light illuminating his face. "You wantin' to turn back, or are ya just sayin'?" He waved the light for her to catch up.

Celena grinned, picking her way through the ancient cobblestones of the access tunnel. "Just an observation." She put a hand on his shoulder, and followed his lead.

The old cellar system was one of the only underground avenues in Palas. With most of the town built on the wet, even a simple passage like this needed its own drainage and pumps. The rock wasn't slick, but it was dark-colored from the dampness, and every corner was covered with luminous moss.

"Ain't nothin' else for it, if you want to see a drag-energist at work," said Gaddes. His voice echoed down the chamber. "Military's out." Thanks to the council. "No strategic points, so locks and dams are out. And no fire."

"No," agreed Celena. "Though I'd love to see the forges one day."

"And there's no big construction project goin' on, so that leaves just one place." Gaddes stopped to take her hand, guiding her down a flight of steps, which ended before a thick metal door. He braced on the wall and yanked at the wheel-handle till it turned. "The old fountainworks."

"Ooh," Celena said. She peered under his elbow at the tightly packed pump-room. Somewhere in the back, she could hear the hum of a single energist. Pipes ticked, water whooshed and dripped, pistons wheezed. It also smelled a lot more rank. "Are you sure you're all right to be down here? You were just ill."

"I've been doin' a lot of resting up," protested Gaddes. "As ordered."

Celena dug through her satchel. "I think you should wear the mask."

He wrinkled his nose at the medic's half-mask. "Well if I'm wearin' it, you're wearin' it."

"Fine. It is kind of musty."

She stuck her tongue out through the cloth. He nudged her side. They tied off their own masks, eyes on each other.

"Alright. It's been a while, but I can give you a quick tour." Gaddes switched the cold light for a lantern while Celena unloaded her sketchbook.

"I had no idea this was here," she remarked. "I thought I'd read all the palace blueprints."

"Uh... I only know about this place 'cause I used to bring girls down here."

Celena broke out in giggles. "–sorry. It doesn't seem like the best trysting spot!"

In an aggrieved tone, Gaddes said, "There's a vent down by the power panels. Air's clean. So's the moonlight." He took in her laughing eyes. "Hey, I was a lot younger, alright? Closer to your age, now that I think about it."

"Well, they must have really liked you to follow you down here." She turned on her heel, taking in the maze of pipes. "So this is where the water goes out?"

Gaddes scratched his head and trailed after her, still favoring one leg. They hadn't turned up any schematics of the place, but he knew his junctions well enough, and she followed along with ease. As she had on the Crusade. "...the fountainworks did used to be on the list of strategic points. I think we even passed a spot for a barricade, though that might be some kind of stop for flooding."

"Did they think someone was going to poison all the fountains?"

Gaddes shrugged. "You could look up the history. Wouldn't be surprised."

Celena nodded grimly. She stopped in front of the main pump. "I'll get this section first." She crouched down with the sketchbook on her lap, and Gaddes held a cloak over her, to keep it all dry. Holding up the lantern to survey the machine, Celena stole a glance up at him. "Aren't you going to get tired like that?"

He bent his head to look down at her. It was so much like that drizzly, misty, long-ago day up at the port. This time her body was pressed against him. Just shining trust. "I've got a pipe to lean on," he said, smiling a little. "Go on, don't worry 'bout me."

They sat in comfortable silence as Celena worked. Occasionally she'd talk out a connection or function, and Gaddes would do his best to confirm it. Gradually the machine grew on the page.

When he judged she was far enough along for conversation, he asked, "What did you wanna see down here, anyway?"

Her voice drifted up. "I'm trying to compare Asturian works and Zaibach works. The function's almost always the same. But the form's always different. Like with the re-fit. They make things so differently, it's almost like a different language." She paused. "Not that I can really tell, with languages."

Gaddes was surprised. "You're readin' all sorts of languages all the time."

"Mostly I've memorized a load of word lists. Kind of. Offhand I know a lot of common words, but that's about it. I ran into this scholar who did nothing but study languages. And I lost him from the second sentence." He could just hear the smile forming... "He was probably trying to ask me along to a festival, so that might account for it."

"What'd you say?" Gaddes burst out, though he knew full well she was teasing.

"He never did ask," she said with a little laugh. "If he had, I would have told him I was too busy. With other obligations." She bumped him with her shoulder. "Anyway, countries all have their ways of speaking, don't they? Asturia and Zaibach are neighbors, but they couldn't be more different. Or even within Asturia: the towns and the mountains and the sea-farers."

He nodded. "Like night and day, sometimes."

"So. A lot of Zaibach was in what they made. How they made it." She hitched up the sketchbook, and a frown entered her tone. "I should say, Dornkirk's Zaibach. What he made it into. And when Lord Folken came in, he changed all of it. We wouldn't have fought that war without him." Over her head, Gaddes's brows rose. Celena didn't notice his slight unease, absorbed as she was with a tricky detail. "...if Zaibach's language was in its works, Lord Folken spoke it better than they did. He changed how they made things. How they thought. Maybe Dornkirk did pick him out with that Destiny Engine. Even then, Folken had to be smarter than all of the Sorcerors put together to rise to Strategos the way he did."

"He wasn't even born Zai."

"Yeah." Now Celena looked up. "I think there might have been a lot of Fanelian in the Zaibach that we knew."

"Huh."

"I wish I could get a hold of some Fanelian scholar who would avoid mentioning... that person. Because there are all sorts of legends I'd love to get my hands on. Like one in particular I found out from the archivist. Fanelians call it the Ghost That Walks."

Gaddes breathed out some steam. "Don't all ghosts walk?"

"In Fanelia, they don't have feet. So it's a big deal."

"Gotcha."

"So, shine this off – the Ghosts That Walk have fur coats that make them invisible to humans. And they drop out of trees, and cast threads from their palms and their fingernails. Like spiders." She bounced in place. "Now, doesn't that sound like an Alseides-class guymelef? With a stealth-cloak and Crima claws?" The guymelef of the Dragonslayers... Dilandau's guymelef.

"Hey, we have legends like that in some parts of the mountains. I've never heard of 'em shootin' out thread, though."

"Yeah! I bet if I dug deep enough, it'd come out that only Fanelia has that particular version. Lord Folken's fingerprints are _all over_. If I can understand more of how he thought, how Zaibach put things together... maybe I could make more sense out of his papers. And my memories." She sighed, blowing on the page. "It's a long shot, I know."

"It's a 'feel' thing," said Gaddes reassuringly. "Every helmsman knows it. You get on board a new ship, you gotta learn the feel of it. The smiths can write up their schematics all day long, but every ship's gonna handle differently. If Folken really did all that stuff – the guymelefs, the ships, the way they fought – that's a big chunk of Zaibach right there. Most of their coffers went into war, I know that much."

"Hm," Celena said. She fell silent. There was no sound but their steamy breaths, the drip of water, the scratch of her stylus.

She didn't say anything as she got up to go to the next section. They were set up as before, Celena sketching busily and Gaddes propped on a railing, when suddenly the stylus stopped. "Dilandau did all the fighting," she said.

"Huhm?"

"Dilandau made all the battlefield decisions," Celena said quietly. "They told him the objective. They rarely told him how to do it, not even Lord Folken or the generals. He... I..." She looked up at Gaddes, one hand gripping his good leg for balance. "I don't even know what pronoun to use."

They stared at each other. Then, gingerly, Gaddes slid down to kneel beside her. "...we?" A shot in the dark was better than nothing.

"We," Celena tried. She let him put an arm 'round her shoulders. "We did all the ground tactics. The training. The Dragonslayers answered to no one else. The rest of the strategy followed them. He... he changed how they did things, too."

Gaddes murmured, "Makes sense. Strategy runs in the family." He patted her shoulder. "Celena?"

"Yes?"

"It goes both ways, right? Lots of Asturia in you. _They_ were the ones who took it and made it bad. Maybe it's 'cause I've been around, and seen a whole lot – I don't think Asturia's any better than the rest of 'em. Or any worse."

Celena nodded. Her hands began to move over the paper. She leaned on Gaddes, drawing the next part, and the next. "Maybe it does go both ways. Don't tell anyone I said this: I'm starting to think not everything I learned in Zaibach is all bad. It's in what one makes of it."

"You're doin' pretty good with it," Gaddes said. He glanced at her thick sketchbook, already halfway full. "This salvage operation of yours is gonna be on for a long time."

"Yes. Folken's papers give me a handle on it, at least. It's a good thing he's so precise; most of the stuff he talks about is so technical, complicated. But it's usually detailed enough for me to draw. If I can draw it, I can figure out what he's saying. What are you staring at?"

Gaddes shook himself. "You, drawin'. It's just flowing out of your fingers."

She dipped her head – hiding her blush, or trying to. "It's practice. Princess Eries wanted me to learn a musical instrument, then she saw my hands. I draw and write so much, they cramp up sometimes."

"Oh yeah? Let me have 'em." He opened his hands. Celena blinked at him, then stuck the stylus behind her ear and placed her hands in his. Gently he pulled at them, kneading the muscles with firm strokes. Celena's lashes fluttered and sank. "You should probably know," Gaddes said, "A girl taught me this."

"You listen to a lot of girls?" Celena watched him massage the ball of her palms, up to the tip of her thumbs.

"Gets me pretty far. Hasn't failed me yet."

"They must think it's just Gaddes." She heard him chuckle. "Silly girls." She turned over her hands and let him coax the tension out, unknowingly digging along the lines of her old life. "That does feel better. Thank you."

Gaddes placed her hands back on her sketchbook. "Shake 'em out if you want. Gotta pace yourself, Celena. Even in training, once you learn the basics, you can't be out practicin' all the time. You'll start wearing out. Especially your hands, you need those. Smaller muscles, smaller bones – like those gears over there. They wear out, and they're hard to replace."

The scritch of stylus on paper resumed. "Brother practices all the time."

"And that's when I go out there and tell him to give it a rest. He doesn't need to practice much," he mused. "He lasts in the pinch because he's got a feel for it. It's the mental part that's gonna beat him, or take him over the other side. Usually he wins."

"It _is_ like drawing. It's not about how pretty it looks in the end. I have to get it out of my head, on to the paper." She took a long, slow breath as her lines followed a curve. "It's like being free. Something I can give myself..."

Gaddes eyed her for a moment, then said, "So don't ruin your hands, or you won't be able to draw."

Celena laughed. "Alright, I got it. I do have to get some sketches of the energist, though."

They moved on to the main pump in the next chamber. Encased as it was, the energist heated the air to a soupy mist. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the jewel-like glow, though she made no move to get a closer look. It was captivating and repellent all at once; she didn't quite know why. _Gem of a dragon's heart. Maker of kings. Bloodfire._ Nothing she drew would be able to capture such a thing – without motion yet as vibrant as the soul of a god.

And here it was, making water dance all over the city, for no reason other than to delight and awe. It really was the perfect place for Gaddes to bring her.

"Gaddes?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed this." She looked over at him. "Figuring out the mechanics. Something solid and real, you know, not just words on a page. I want–"

"Hey! What are you kids doing down here?"

Gaddes was on his feet in an instant, shielding Celena. It was just the caretaker, an old man with wiry muscles, probably old enough to have caught Gaddes down here before. "Yo. We're on an errand from Lord Dryden," Gaddes said quickly.

"There are no blueprints of this place, so he wanted a survey," Celena added. She dipped into a proper bow – though in a boy's style – saying, "Celena Schezar, at your pleasure." She completed the disarmament with a smile. The old man was obliged to introduce himself as well. She stuck a thumb at Gaddes. "He's with me."

"A survey, eh? Sent all the way down to this swamp for some pictures." The old man spat. "Guess you wanna see the engine."

"Oh yes!" said Celena with unfeigned enthusiasm.

Clearly no one had ever taken an interest before. The caretaker led them around the room, with Celena dutifully taking notes. "Didn't used to need an engine at all. The fountains were fed out of the hills, through the aqueducts and into the cisterns. Natural action, just flowed down like siren's tears. Then they opened the border rows up by the foothills, and all those people needed the water."

She made an intrigued noise. "So where does the water for the fountains come from, now?"

"The sea," he said, nodding.

"So this holding tank's out of the ocean?"

"That's right, Miss. Circulates till we flush it, every month or so. It's alright for dipping, and it won't fell a foolish child sticking his face in it, but I wouldn't drink it for breakfast."

"Pipes don't gum up," Gaddes broke in. "Where d'you put–?"

"The salt's down here," the old man said, pointing at a panel. He pulled a handle and it opened into a wide, shallow chamber. Sunlight streamed through what looked like a mesh and sea-glass ceiling, illuminating a grayish layer of salt.

Celena winced at the sudden brightness, throwing an arm over her eyes. "All that salt is from the seawater?"

"Yep. It runs past the energist there, see. Then it collects in the pan, and gets shunted in here."

"May I see?" Celena started forward.

"Hold up, Miss." The old man switched off some toggles. "There we are."

Gaddes yanked her elbow with a little glare, and ducked in first. Celena followed him inside. "What do you do with all of it?" she asked.

Holding up a shovel and pail, the old man said, "Bag it up and sell it." He started down the ladder.

Celena was staring at the man's slimy boots. "Let me guess. To the people in the border rows?"

"Any housewife can boil some up if she's able, but it's the work of a morning to go from the foothills to the bay and back again. Ain't much. They still pay."

A second shovel caught her eye. She nudged Gaddes to fetch it. "Let me help you," she said to the old man.

"What?" The old man stood straight up, leaning on his shovel. "You want to send your man down here?"

"No. Me." Celena was pulling off her boots. "His leg's been broken, he shouldn't be hauling anything heavy."

Gaddes shook his head. "Put somethin' on your feet. You step on somethin' sharp, this broke leg ain't hauling your a– you back outta here."

Smiling, Celena ripped out some of the thick sketching paper and wrapped her feet. She tied them up with marking ribbon, and climbed down.

"This ain't any kind of work for a lady," said the old man.

"Nonsense, I just shoveled a wagon-load of dirt and litter yesterday," Celena said. Gaddes handed her the shovel, handle-first, and she aimed a smile at the old man. "I can handle a little loose salt."

"Eh," said the old man, fascinated by this slim girl in a skirt and apron and close-cropped hair. "Mind where you walk. Slip and break that pretty head."

Celena squished the salt underfoot, listening to it crunch. It was like fine snow, except with a little bite. She began to fill the pail. "How much do you have of this, in your stores?"

"Might be close to a half-thou. Soon to market, I expect."

"How much do you charge per basket?"

"Must be six gidar."

Celena caught Gaddes's eye. His lips thinned; it was too dear a price for someone living in the border rows.

That settled it. "I'll pay you eight for this load," she said.

The shovel thumped. "You wanna buy the whole load? For eight a pound?"

"It's just money," Celena said innocently. Gaddes cleared his throat.

The old man looked like he wanted to kick the price higher, but he glanced up at Gaddes. "Alright," he said. "Where d'you want it sent, Miss?"

Celena topped off the pail. "To the border rows. Call it a gift from the palace. You know your regular customers, right?"

"They'll be expectin' it every month, if you tell 'em that!"

"Then make it just for this month."

"Midsummer fair," Gaddes suggested.

Celena nodded. "That's a special enough occasion, I think."

"As your will," muttered the old man. "You ought to be savin' that up for your dowry."

It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. "What's a dowry?"

The men stared at her. "Uhm, it's a bride payment," Gaddes said, wincing at the name. "When a girl gets married off to a new household, the family pays a lump amount for her up-keep and such."

Celena's brows shot up. "Oh. I see."

"You've got a tender heart, Miss," said the old man. "But you're best off putting aside for that, 'stead of gettin' your hands soiled with mean labor."

Mouth twisting with some indecipherable emotion, Celena grabbed the pail with both hands and hoisted it over to Gaddes. "I wouldn't want my future husband to think I'm a dull, silly girl who's afraid of hard work."

Gaddes's demeanor didn't change a whit. "I'm certain no one would think that of you, Miss Celena." He grabbed an empty sack, hooked it, and filled it with salt.

Celena told herself the flush rising to her cheeks was just from the exertion.

With the three of them, they filled a couple more sacks before Gaddes called it quits. He looked like he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and haul her out of there, but instead he poured her some water from the flask. They tapped their cups together, watching the old caretaker cart away the salt. "What'd I just say about overdoing it?"

"Sorry," said Celena, who was not sorry at all. The work had gotten her blood flowing, and her head felt clear and sharp.

Gaddes snorted. "Here." He pulled out a handkerchief, looking away as Celena toweled off her brow and down her front.

"Thank you."

Finally Gaddes decided he couldn't stand it any longer. "You really didn't know what a dowry is?"

Celena pulled off her mask to laugh. "I never read those parts, all right! Weddings are boring."

"You work for Lord Dryden! How d'you think he's near to ruling Asturia?"

Celena gaped at him. Maybe the work _had_ been too much for her. "Are you joking?"

Gaddes looked like he was on the edge of laughing at her. He bit his lip. "Celena, the kingdom was the dowry." After a miet, he chucked her chin to close her mouth.

"I thought... I thought it was because she'd picked him, and since she's the princess, that gave him the right of rule."

"Nope. I guess he did kind of give it back, but the old king – Jechia save 'im – he's so feeble, Dryden might as well have the crown. _His_ father, old Fassa, arranged their joining a while ago, so they all but picked him to take it. That's shape of it as I heard, anyway. Nobody ever explained it you?"

"You know how those nobles are! It's nothing but roundabout words." Still shaking her head, she started to pull her boots back on. "Are you telling me that if some poor girl marries my brother, they'll have to pay him? Even though he's one of the richest men in the land outside of the merchant fleets?"

Gaddes shrugged. "I suppose so. Poorer families can't get a break, there, not unless they get someone richer to sponsor 'em. If they can't at least send off a horse for every daughter, some turn 'em out altogether to fend for themselves." He grimaced at her shocked expression. "Yeah, that's how it lies. Never really thought about it before. I guess war's not the only place for cruelty."

"Some of the odd things my friends say now make sense. So to speak." She didn't like the taste in her mouth of something so elementally foreign. And it was _Asturian_. She tugged at his elbow. "Come on. Let's get out of here, and do something nice and simple. Like have a picnic in the garden."

He perked up. "Sounds like a plan." Picking up the lantern, he glanced at a gauge on the wall. "We're gonna run out of sunlight if we go back the way we came. You wanna try another way out?"

"There's always another way out," she said in a distant voice. "I'm up for it."

They went deeper into the pump room, to a cramped little corner surrounded by pipes, whose floor sloped into a large drain. There was just enough room for the two of them. Gaddes reached up and yanked down what turned out to be a ladder on a single stile. Then he pushed a lever up, opening a cover a few costa above.

Celena found herself backed against the wall. Sweat rolled off Gaddes's face; his shirt was wet and was starting to cling. He had yet to regain all the mass he'd lost, but braced on just the one foot, it was his arms doing the work. When the sunlight hit him, it was with stark, fully-defined clarity that she realized just _how much_ work they could do.

She was keenly aware what room this was, and how he knew about it. It would be easy enough to change places with him in the close space, and balance on the bottom rung for the height, his hand lingering on her–

As soon as the ladder was down and locked, Celena slipped around Gaddes and started to climb out of his reach.

"Hey! Careful!"

"Where does this go?" she called down.

There was a pause. "It's by the old carriage-house." Gaddes cleared his throat loudly. "Celena, don't take this wrong, but you are the worst kind of flirt."

She laughed, a trifle loudly. Stealing a glance down, she shot back, "Not as bad as Allen!"

Gaddes was shading his eyes. "You're climbin' a ladder while wearin' a skirt. How much worse could you get?"

"Sorry!" She giggled again as she heard him grumbling to himself. In a miet, she made it out into daylight and the clean breezes of late afternoon. "I'm up!"

Gaddes started his climb. Slowly. Celena roused herself from her appreciation of the view; it was a long way down. "Gaddes, are you sure we shouldn't go through the tunnels? I can come back down."

"I've got it, I've got it. It'll hold weight."

She checked around, and knelt by the hole, watching him come closer and closer. "Here. Take my hand."

"You're gonna pull me up?" Gaddes wrapped his arm on a rung and peered at her. "We'd both tumble back down."

Celena dug in her boots. "My legs are locked. I have leverage. I could pull Kio out of there, as long as we don't let go."

"Alright," he said. He reached up and she hooked both hands on his. "Hup."

Gaddes got purchase with his good leg and hauled Celena to her feet, besides. "Right, stay still. I need ya." He used her shoulder as a crutch so he could kick the cover on its pivot, and back over the hole. It settled there with a muffled thud. "There we go. You've got so much leverage, _you_ lock it down." He smiled as she flicked her fingers at him. "See those hand holds? Yeah. Careful of the rust. Pull it towards you till it turns. With your feet, Celena, not your back."

Celena finally felt it turn, and lock up tight. Something about the action was so familiar, but she couldn't place it. "Done."

"Attagirl." He started to pull off his mask.

"Whew." She got to her feet, dusting off a bit. "We're going to come back so filthy..." Who knew what the gossips would say then. Part of her was looking forward to it.

"What'll they say, that we've been rollin' in a salt mine? Just don't leave any hand-prints on me– Celena!" He twisted out of the way as she tried to tag him.

She laughed. Then she laughed harder when he covered his hand with the mask and hooked a dirty gesture at her. He grinned, wiping his brow with it.

Celena took off her apron. She eyed him. "Gaddes? If someone offered you a dowry, would you take it?"

"Well, yeah. I would." Gaddes rubbed the damp out of his hair. "I wouldn't take more'n they could spare, but I'd take it. Besides not insultin' her family... it's not easy to put a household together if you ain't got the land or the boat for it. Right now my room-and-board's free; training's paid up. If I need anything else, there's the quartermaster." He tapped his leg with a wry smile. "Or the medics. On our own, and if we had mouths to feed, we might need that dowry. Uh. Me and my future wife, I mean."

"Hmm." She took his proffered arm, and they began to stroll back to the main grounds. "I guess there might be some people who'd seek me out just for mine. Obviously I've never asked Allen about it."

He nudged her. "I doubt there'd be many who'd try that. You've got a lot goin' for ya, on its own. And if anybody tried that, Allen would probably kill 'em."

Her lips turned up. She glanced at him sideways. "I guess it's a little early for this..."

"By a _lot_ ," said Gaddes emphatically. "Might as well start thinkin' about it, though, 'cause people will be asking. You, I mean. You're comin' up on marriageable age. Might be even younger here in the palace. Just, uh, don't–"

"Mention it to my brother?" No, Allen was not quite ready for such a discussion. Even hypothetically.

"Uh huh. Nor the fellows, they'll never give me peace." They passed through some high entrance arches, the subject closed, for now. Nevertheless Gaddes found her hand in the crook of his elbow, and gave her fingers a squeeze. She smiled up at him. Halfway to a laugh, as she usually was when she was with him.

They crossed a wide courtyard roofed by a wide open sky. The sea-birds were wheeling in the wind. Celena leaned her cheek on his shoulder and watched them. Soon she saw he was watching them too.

"You miss them?" she asked.

"Yeah, me too," he replied. "They ain't the only buddies I've got, you know."

"Oh? May I meet any of them?"

Gaddes seemed to remember himself. "Might be somethin' for later. They're all deployed. Or..."

"Dead?"

"Yeah. Absent friends," he said without strain. He patted her hand. "Got at least one right here, though."

The birds swooped in lazy circles over their heads. Who cared about the rest of the world? Inside these castle walls, they had contentment for an afternoon. Perhaps that was enough.

* * *

"Celena, may I ask you something?"

Celena frowned. She couldn't look up from the lacing pillow now, and Princess Eries's voice almost never betrayed her intentions. "Yes of course," she said at last.

"Have you and Gaddes declared to each other?"

"I beg your pardon, your majesty!" Celena looked up to find Princess Eries regarding her serenely. Quickly she went back to her bobbins, watching her fingers return to the correct ones, twisting them, one two three four.

"I'm sorry, Celena. Is this a sore subject?" said Eries cautiously.

"Oh, no." One two, one two. Over. Celena reached for a pin. "You just surprised me. No, Gaddes and I have not declared." Damn, she was blushing. Hopefully Eries wouldn't read too much into it. "We don't plan to. Not anytime soon. There are... still some things I have to do."

"Does it have anything to do with Lord Dryden?"

Now she really was going to drop a loop. "I... no. Why would you ask that?"

"You've become quite involved in his affairs."

At first, uncharitably, Celena thought Milerna had spoken to her older sister. But this was Eries, and besides Allen, the best native guide she had for the intricacies of court life. She would not be asking Celena if she'd fallen in love with her boss. "I don't do anything but sort out his papers, my lady. He is rather talkative, and it's only polite to answer him." She finished a row, and sat back. "Lord Dryden knows quite a lot of interesting things. I do not find him to be an interesting man."

"And you think Gaddes is?"

Celena clamped down on a retort. Allen was the only one she knew who could rouse Eries into high emotion. The rest of the time, being harsh with Eries was like fighting the tide. "I think he's a very good friend," Celena said at last.

"I was only concerned," Eries said placatingly, "because I heard that the terms of your employment with Lord Dryden might be terminated through marriage."

Brows rising, Celena went back to her bobbins. At least those made sense. "I only added that in because I'd heard it before. I didn't..."

"Mean it seriously?"

"No." Celena laughed despite herself. "Honestly, if I wanted to leave Lord Dryden's employ, there are easier ways than entering into marriage. I'd probably just ask him to leave. He can be demanding, but he treats his people well." She smiled at Eries, bobbing her head. "Thank you for inquiring, just the same."

The tiniest smile touched Eries's eyes. Sometimes Celena wished she smiled more. Even with the layers of white clothes, Eries was just as pretty as her sisters. Living and dead.

"So you and Gaddes are not pledged together."

Celena was beginning to wonder if there was some sort of form she had to sign. Her girlfriends tittered about declaring and pledge-making, as though boys were this separate species that needed to be captured in order to stay.

 _Or maybe you're just lucky, Celena. Don't take it for granted._

She searched for the answer most palatable to Eries. "He is in my care, I suppose. As my brother's sister. And he watches out for me, as my brother's second. It's not terribly complicated." Quite seriously, she added, "Neither of us would ever do anything to injure my brother, or lose his regard."

"Not deliberately, no, I do not believe either of you would," said Eries obliquely. "I was thinking of it because there is a major gala coming up in mid-month. After your birthday. Your brother will be invited to it, and required to attend, of course. As will you."

"The Grand Masque?" Even Celena knew what that was. It was the premiere event of midsummer. Nobles came from all over the land, including some visiting dignitaries. At sunset the palace doors would be shut, and the festivities would not end until the next sun-up.

"I confess I was hoping that you were not pledged to Gaddes. He would not be invited."

Celena nearly dropped a handful of bobbins. Of course he wouldn't. "Because he's a commoner." High military leaders could come, of course, and a few war heroes with their plumes and medals. To the nobles, Gaddes was no more than a junior mate.

"There will be other festivals where he would be welcome..." Eries trailed off.

It wasn't as though Celena had been counting the days to the ball. But besides being obliged, it would be quite a test for her: hundreds of people would be packed into the heart of the castle. It was no intimate party. She had to attend. She just hadn't realized that would mean going without Gaddes. Or that she might miss his presence there.

 _Eries is right. You're_ not _pledged to him. You can't even be disappointed._ "Why am I even invited? I haven't earned any sort of title."

"By virtue of being Sir Allen's sister," said Eries promptly.

"I don't really feel that I am a noble." Not the best thing to say to Princess Eries, but it was the truth.

Eries leaned forward. "I know you didn't choose this life, Celena. Yet you have been so mindful of your duties... I'm very proud of you." Celena couldn't help but feel pleased. She sat up. Eries continued, "Your brother chose this path of knighthood. It is not a post from which one can resign. You will have to learn how to move in these circles."

 _If you want to stay by Allen's side._ Celena had known this all along. She just hadn't looked it in the face before.

What else was Gaddes barred from?

Eries looked a bit rueful. "I've put you in a bind, haven't I?"

A million thoughts sprang to the fore. Celena had wanted so badly for the world to open up, she hadn't considered multiple paths through it. Some of them diverging greatly from each other.

Quietly she returned to her work. One, two, three, four. Another, another, the next, and the next. Above the tangle of work, a swath of lace meandered off the pillow.

If she reached deep down, there was still one thing of which she was sure. "I know my own heart," Celena said. "It's everything else that's complicated."

There seemed to be a smile in Eries's voice. "Then you are likely wiser than most of your elders."

* * *

The knock on the door was soft, and he knew exactly who it was. Gaddes was right out of bed and in his regular uniform as though it were a general inspection.

It took him a few miet to answer it, but Celena was standing there like she'd just knocked. "You up for an outing?" She grinned.

Gaddes took in her work apron and the satchel strapped across her chest. "You have any idea what hour this is?" He looked up and down the corridor. "Where the hell are your guards?"

"I gave them the slip. Don't worry, they think I'm in my room. No one's going to check till a bit before dawn."

Gaddes crossed his arms. "I already don't like it. Where are we headed?"

"If you'll follow me, I'll show you." And like a benighted nymph, she was off and away. It was all Gaddes could do to follow the patter of her footsteps.

"Celena, wait up," Gaddes said plaintively.

She did eventually slow down, but by then they were on the other side of the castle, in one of the older sections built by previous kings. Though he was usually fairly skilled at night-tracking, the late hour and the ache in his leg added to the disorientation. When he did catch up, she was digging her feet into a thick carpet before a rickety door. It was when she produced a matching key which finally restored his bearings.

"We can't go up there." He put his hand on hers as she pushed the key into the lock.

"We won't be up there to look at the machine. We're only looking for Lord Folken's notes."

"And what if you open the door and have a fit?" He'd witnessed two already, and damned if he'd see another. She'd cried and shaken for a quarter of an hour, all the while burying her screams... then told him they weren't that bad. Gaddes grimaced. He was probably doomed anyway.

"That's why I asked you along." She turned and put her back to the door, looking up at him. "Dilandau had no personal connection to it. I'll be fine." She placed her other hand over his. "Who else am I going to bring up there? I don't want to be stuck in a room with Lord Dryden all night long. And given what I've figured out, he will come running at this hour." Her lashes fluttered. "I'd much rather be with you."

Gaddes straightened. He was so thrown, he let go of her hand.

 _She's playin' you._

She started to turn the key, but he leaned on the door and glared down at her. "Celena! You can't jerk me around like your brother does."

Celena blinked at him. "My brother does this to you?"

"He... more or less. Hey!" He grabbed her shoulder. "I'm not kidding."

She looked stricken. Awkwardly he let go, and backed up.

"Sorry," she said. "I was just... I'm sorry."

Gaddes scratched his head, shifting his weight. "Natural you'd be excited. I mean, you've been lookin' for somethin' like this for months." He sighed, and regarded her seriously. _Don't keep doing that to me, Celena. Can't fight it every time._

"I'll try not to do it again," she said.

Wryly he said, "I appreciate the effort."

Subdued, Celena bit her lip, glancing first at the key, then at Gaddes. "Do you think we ought to wait till morning?"

Gaddes stared at the door. "You're gonna get into it sooner or later. Right? It's your call. I'm just here to back you up."

"I think," she said at last, "I think we should go in tonight. By morning Lord Dryden will be all over it. I want first crack at it."

"Alright. Any sign of trouble, we turn back."

Celena nodded, and turned the key.

On the other side, there was an old stone spiral staircase. This was the back entrance. When Gaddes was here last, he'd watched them encase the old bastion in a huge wooden tower, knock down part of it, then build it up bigger to fit. In the dark of that giant barrel, the best stonemasons in Asturia had done the work of a century in a matter of weeks, while guys like him hauled part after mangled part through the gaping front entrance. Some of them had still reeked of the ocean, and of fire. The dead, at least, had been left to Jechia.

Folken had hovered over all of it. Weeks later, after Folken's death, those same stonemasons had sealed up the wide hallway leading to the place, leaving one or two circuitous entrances like this one.

They climbed to the landing just before the top. At the wall, Celena wiped dust off the mortar until she came on a clay piece, which popped out into a little niche. "Let me," Gaddes said. He stuck his fifth finger inside. "If there's a coated dart in here, you're gonna haul me to the infirmary, right?"

Celena blanched. "Don't joke about that." She thumped him with her satchel when he grinned at her.

There was a faint click, and the false wall swung out. By force of habit, Gaddes kicked some dust over the skid mark. "Make sure the handle on this side's working," he said.

He made no move to help her; without hesitation she pulled down on the metal handle and pushed at the wall. It groaned a little, but all the bolts and hinges seemed oiled and functional.

"Seems sound," Celena said. It took an extra nudge from her hip to close it all the way. She turned. Before them was the tall doorway to Lord Folken de Fanel's private laboratory.

"Gimme your hand," said Gaddes quietly. "Anything happens, I'll be right here."

"Thank you," she whispered. She held up a second key.

With Celena turning the key, and Gaddes lifting the bar, they opened the door.

From the modest threshold, the chamber soared into the darkness. At its center was suspended the menacing hulk of machinery salvaged from Folken's ship. The air was thick, and still. The thin veil of dust did nothing to soften its Zaibach lines, though there was little hint of how much damage it could do.

Gaddes wasn't looking at any of that. He was watching Celena.

"The Destiny Resonator," she said. There was none of the awe or reverence as when she'd looked upon Scherazade. She was taking it in, though, painting every line with her eyes.

"You all right?"

Celena shook herself from her reverie. "I'm just... confused. It ought to be familiar. Maybe he didn't know what it did, but he spent all that time on ships with something like this. I must have seen it before, somewhere. But he's not there."

No matter how many times she did that inward search, he was never going to get used to it. "That's good, right?"

"It's a puzzle. Maybe he just didn't care about it. I don't understand how he could have missed all the stuff that I can see so clearly. Well, at least that means we can get to work..."

Reluctantly Gaddes released her hand, and instead gave her a steadying touch on her shoulderblades. "You're not gonna mess with any of that machine."

"Just his notes, I promise. I don't care about that old scrap heap." She sighed. "I wish they'd destroy it, though. Some things should be buried."

"Mm. Let's get goin', then." Gaddes considered the dim moonlight filtering in from the door. Its thin, watery light all but smeared the outlines of objects with the deep shadows of the room. It was just gonna throw off their vision. "See if you can find some light. Hey, don't touch anything. Let me do it."

Celena walked down to the wide center balcony and its cluttered table. "Here's some candles. He had some kind of flint for them..."

"Celena, for all the sirens, let me clear it out." Gaddes finished shutting the creaky wood door. He could probably adjust to the dark faster than she could; he came down the stairs, following the sound of her breathing, and was at her side. "Folken's room probably wasn't touched," he explained. "This place has been gone over by every greybeard in the land. You might have a feel for Folken but you don't know them."

"Good point. They can't have picked it clean, though. That's what I'm counting on," she said. She watched him pick up the flint device and turn it over in his fingers. After a moment, a spark jumped the darkness and caught on a wick. Light washed over her face, and she squinted to get used to it. "Look," she said.

Faint scratches marred the wood. Claw-marks from five mechanical fingers. "Creepy."

"This is the same table. He must have constructed it himself. It's the most obvious place to start, but it'll take the longest."

"Yeah? How's that?" He watched her peer at the objects on the table. Eventually she pointed at one, then another, and he turned them over, shaking them gently.

"Because... it's the most obvious place to start." She smiled. "He had a suspicious mind." Her smile faded into a curious expression. "What is that thing?"

Gaddes poked the metal contraption sitting on the raised ledge. It spun around on its axis, balanced as perfectly as a dancer, speeding up and slowing down with a low hum. He looked around to see if it set off anything else. "Doesn't do anything."

"I think it's a toy!" Celena said, surprised. She touched one of the wires, and it began to undulate, throwing off ribbony waves. "I saw something like this in a picture book on Fanelia. Smaller, of course. Why would Folken keep a toy in his laboratory?"

Gaddes grinned, and picked her pocket. He held up the cat's rattle. "You've got one."

"How did you do that?"

"Lesson for another day." He gave it back to her. "You got an idea where we should start?"

"I think you should get on your knees. Under the table."

Gaddes bit his lip, but did as he was told. "...I ain't sayin' a damn thing."

"I didn't say anything either!" she cried, though her voice was a little strangled.

Gaddes chuckled. "Alright, pop down here and tell me what I'm lookin' for."

Celena crouched down to see. "Whatever you do, don't tap anything. I mean, it's not going to do anything to you," she said when Gaddes froze, "The mechanism will probably lock up for a few hours, though. Or longer. Just press lightly. You'll feel when something's different..." She cleared her throat. Probably to cover a laugh.

"You're sure none of this stuff'll take a limb off or somethin'?"

She shook her head. "Lord Folken abandoned all the ways of the Empire. It was like a religious conversion. And none of his secrets have hurt me yet."

Something about that didn't sit well with Gaddes. "You really gonna stake your life on that?"

"Not only that." Celena met his gaze, her eyes wide and serious. "I would stake your life on it. If you'd let me."

Folken's spirit wasn't the only dangerous one in the room. Gaddes smiled despite himself. "Alright. I'm up for that."

He didn't wait to see the look on her face (or the blush rising up her neck), just crept forward to start feeling around. "This is no good," he said to himself after a miet. He flipped over to lie on the floor.

Celena quickly got a candle to light up the close space. It was slow work, though Gaddes began to see what she meant by knowing how Folken thought. There was little doubt that the craftsmanship was not Asturian – too plain, for one – and there were just little odd details here and there, like the direction of the wood grain or the way each board sounded against his sweaty fingers. At first he thought he could see exactly where a secret panel might be; then he got a hunch that it was a dummy compartment. And so it went. For a dead guy, Folken sure was a canny bastard.

After a few miet, Celena leaned her brow on the table's edge. "Thank you for helping me, Gaddes. I wouldn't want anyone else here right now. I'm not jerking you around," she added.

And if that wasn't worth a few cobwebs, he didn't know what was. "You mean, you wouldn't want anyone else losing a hand down here?"

Her lips curved up. "You'd still have the other hand."

He swallowed a few responses as to what he could do with just one hand. "...don't let it weigh on you, Celena. That's what I'm here for. That's what a second does – all the dirty work."

"I suppose there's no chance of Allen ... assigning you to me."

Gaddes looked at her sharply. All he could see clearly was the line of her mouth. "You mean, when I go back...?" She nodded, and he sank back, silently kicking himself for suspecting her of guile. Other knights and lords fucked around with their personal oathsmen that way, but Celena probably wasn't familiar with the practice. "Oh, you mean he's not gonna want you poking around a replica of Zaibach's biggest weapon, much less offer me up as help."

"Fat chance, huh."

"Boss has got a point, Celena. What about the next mission, when we take off again?" In the corner of his eye, he saw her bend her head closer to the candle flame; but then, he could guess at her expression. "If you're gonna take Lord Dryden's protection, you've gotta play by his rules. He's stashed you away so far, but you can't be pulling shit like this in the middle of the night." Usually Gaddes had a fairly balanced view of the council and the nobles' power. Wartime thinking was still rampant, though, and everybody was still twitchy. He swallowed a knot of ill-ease at the thought of leaving Celena in the castle again.

"Yet here we are..."

Gaddes thought he felt a bump in one of the crevices. Slowly he stroked along the seams. "If you can find a cure in this stuff, won't that solve a helluva lot of your problems?"

"Yes," she said faintly. Her breathing stilled, like a lull in the breeze, then started again.

 _What was that?_ Nudging her with his knee, he said, "That _is_ why you're looking, ri– Hey!"

"What is it! Are you alright?"

Gaddes wiggled his point finger, and started to laugh. "It worked! I can feel the papers in there. Hang on a second, I've almost got it." Licking his lips, he closed his eyes and felt for the identical seam on the other side... and there it was. A panel popped out, and he shuffled a sealed parchment tube out of its hiding place. "How the hell did he roll 'em up this tight? Wait, wait..." The last thumbs-breadth he yanked, hard, and heard a spring catch deep inside the table. "Hah. I knew it. Would've bit down on this and we'd have had to chop up this table to get at it."

Celena flashed grabby hands at him. "Oh, I should have warned you about that."

"Thanks a lot," Gaddes said affably, and got out from under there, wiping his brow. "Guess I didn't forget everything about Folken, either." He showed her the tube, and smirked as she bounced on her heels. "If you're openin' that up now, let me do it."

"Fun, isn't it?" she grinned.

"Good old-fashioned treasure hunt." He returned the grin, tousling her hair. "No wonder you took this on." Folken's room must've been rife with those stashes.

For a while they worked on prying the tube open. And because Celena couldn't resist, she broke out her wooden stylus and started skimming a few passages. "I think this is it! These must be some of the raw research notes. No summaries or logs or anything. Although... of course it's in code."

"Guy probably thought in code. Hey," Gaddes flicked her shoulder. "Listen, after tonight, will you promise me you won't go haring off on these ventures? Not without your backup. And I don't mean those idiots who keep lettin' you slip by."

She straightened, tucking the stylus in her ear. "I promise."

"Worst thing about treasure hunts is when you forget how dangerous they are. And – not to dig it in – but you of all people oughta know better."

Her fingertips paused in their survey of the wooden panels. Gaddes clamped his mouth shut, but he'd shot true; she wasn't offended. Still, that abstracted look came over her like a veil, and he itched to sweep her hair from her temple, to brush it away. "...you're right," she said simply. A smile floated to her lips, as though from the depths of a sea-current. Then she turned her gaze on him, and her smile filled with warmth. "Well... if we've only got this one chance, we ought to get moving. We have a lot of ground to cover."

Painstakingly they uncovered more of Folken's hiding places. Some of the papers had directions to the next in line, and others were singlets. They even found a paper dragon tucked in some crevice, which Celena said was probably covered in invisible writing.

It was at least into the midnight hours when they finally gave up on the table, and moved on to the walls. "Did the guy have nothin' better to do?"

"He was trained as a scholar, most likely. They write everything down... and the knowledge he had was dangerous." Celena patted her half-stuffed satchel.

Gaddes unscrewed an old lantern as instructed. "Dangerous, right. I'm just waitin' for something to happen. Exploding floor. Giant mace outta the wall. Rain o' killer sharks."

Celena laughed. "You don't have anything to be worried about, alright! If Folken was anything, he was steadfast once he believed in something."

"He still carried a sword around the castle. Wasn't exactly a guest. Don't bear it against me – Folken wasn't my favorite guy."

"You didn't trust him?" she said curiously.

"Nope." Something inside the lantern clicked. Gaddes scowled at it, trying to figure which way it was supposed to turn, and which way Folken had actually set it to turn.

"He was consistent. Mm, maybe he wasn't very trustworthy," said Celena. She tapped the lantern with her stylus, and Gaddes followed her direction. "I think that's because he didn't trust anybody." She laughed. "Of course he didn't, look at all the secrets he left behind."

"Heh."

"That's probably why he got along with Dilandau."

"I didn't think anybody got along with Dilandau."

"Hmm," said Celena. "I don't know how I knew that. Maybe it's a memory of mine, or something from Dilandau. Or from what I was reading. I just... knew. Lord Folken never hurt Dilandau. He didn't trust him, I think. But he meant him no harm."

Gaddes eyed her. He turned back to his machinations, and shrugged. "You two _are_ the same age. His... you know. I ain't gonna mention his name."

Celena's brows rose. "Same as his brother? Really?"

"Yeah, I think so. Same year." He gauged her countenance again. "...I remember Hitomi sayin' something about it. It was White, 12th Moon."

"I'm Red, 8th Moon."

She was going to be another year older, soon enough. "Comin' up."

"Yeah," she said. She stood on tiptoes to peer at his handiwork. In the corner of his eye, Gaddes caught her biting her lip. A few more nervous bobs, and he could just see her working up to something. "Uhm, Gaddes?"

"What is it?"

"Princess Eries mentioned that I'd likely be invited to the Grand Masque. I mean, I have to go. To put in an appearance." Gaddes heard something else pop in the mechanism, but he froze and turned to face her anyway. Everyone in Palas knew the Grand Masque, the height of the festival season, when the royal castle glowed like a third moon from sun-down to sun-up. His traitorous imagination supplied a picture of Celena in those gaudy gowns with the tiny waists, paperpaste mask studded with jewels... her slender arms in those silk gloves, and all her skin flushed from dancing...

Gaddes cleared his throat.

Celena in the here-and-now was wringing those hands. "I'd go with Allen, but he has ceremonial duties, so... I'll probably need a dance partner."

Gaddes knew he was missing something. Didn't she know? He said, confused, "You know I can't–"

"I know, that's why I wanted to–"

Ever after, Gaddes would wonder why he hadn't thought to bolt the door.

At that moment it swung open, moaning for all it was worth, and from the other side came not moonlight but harsh torchlight. Celena turned her head. The glow of the flames fell upon her face and hair, red and flickering and sparking over her dazzled eyes. And it took Gaddes an extra, precious second to drop what he was doing, and step between her and the blinding glare.

"Brother...?"

Gaddes knew his Boss's shadow. It didn't even surprise him that the Crusade was back early, or that they'd set down at port in the middle of the night.

What was more, Gaddes knew to react as soon as Allen did, and the first thing Allen did was push his companion out of the way.

"Get out of here, now!" came Allen's shout.

But it was too late. There was a whisper of a sword being drawn, and someone called out into the darkness.

" _Who's there?_ "

The chamber echoed with the voice of King Van de Fanel.

At Gaddes's side, Celena began to scream.

*

It was a scream unlike any he'd heard out of her before. This was no keening cry. It came instead from deep in her throat, like that of a full-grown beast caught in a steel trap. She didn't fold over as usual, either. Instead she threw an elbow at him and surged forward, limbs flailing. Gaddes caught her by the wrist. He nearly let go of her when she turned to look at him. The pupils of her eyes were blown nearly to the whites, and there was no recognition there.

Gaddes corraled her by the waist and locked his arms as she struggled. She was gasping for air, now, screaming between gulping breaths, screaming like she was dying. After an eternal miet, her voice just about scratched to nothing, and her kicks and punches became more feeble. It registered that she wasn't just shouting gibberish; she was calling out names. Calling for someone to come.

Tears leaked from her eyes.

Gaddes sank to his knees, though not out of any loss of strength.

"Gaddes!" It was Allen. Her brother grabbed her by the wrists, and aimed a blistering look at him. " _What are you doing here?_ "

"She was lookin' for Folken's things." It was all he could do to speak. His throat felt raw, like the screams had ripped through there too. "I went along to watch her back. Make sure–" _nothing bad happened._ Gaddes choked. He let go as Allen transferred her into his own hold. Once closer to Allen, her eyes shut, though her breast heaved like a cornered bird's. "She was fine! We just didn't know–"

"That I was returning early?"

The hardness in Allen's voice was familiar to Gaddes as the back of his hand. It had just never been for him, before. "That you'd bring Van," Gaddes amended. "None of the guys ratted before you took off, I swear. Fuck. No one else with you?" No nobles, or guards who could talk...?

Allen shook his head in response. He held Celena to his chest, visibly trying to will her calm. As he rocked her and rubbed her arms, she curled up – practically shriveling into a ball.

Gaddes collapsed back against the wall. His leg ached. Lots of places ached.

When Allen looked up again, the anger had burned away to leave naked anguish. "I should have checked her room before we came up here," he said.

"It's nobody's fault," Gaddes said. Jechia knew there was plenty of blame to go around.

"Gaddes, I've never seen her like this." Allen stole a glance at the towering Destiny Resonator, as though he were ready to accuse it of destroying his baby sister's life, and to challenge it in armed combat besides.

Better it than Gaddes. So far. "So," he swallowed. "So it is different. From usual."

Allen stroked her hair, not answering. Gaddes had the crazy thought of him discovering her shorter cut, before remembering that Allen had probably known about the first time.

Then Allen's fingertips brushed over her right cheek. Like it was moving on its own, Celena's hand twitched up and swatted him away.

Both men froze.

Allen met Gaddes's eyes. _One other time. I've seen this._

Aloud, he said, "She's breathing fine. I'm going to put her to bed."

Gaddes almost thought he meant Celena's so-called office. He winced; it wouldn't matter. Allen would check there sooner or later, and the place was plastered with Zaibach papers. The satchel full of Folken's notes still hung from her shoulder. There would be no hiding it, now. "I'll clean up here. She wanted to get a head-start on Dryden."

Allen rose. Celena was a limp bundle in his arms, except for her knees pulled to her chest. "Fetch Princess Milerna first. I don't wish to disturb her," _at this damned hour_ , "but she would want to know immediately. You can come back here and put things in order as Celena wished."

"Good as done, Boss." Gaddes followed them out the door. There was no sign of Van, who was probably good as they were at covering tracks. He might as well have been a phantom.

Automatically Gaddes took the last torch. Though Allen had said she was breathing, Celena looked so still. Allen's last sentence seemed to weigh on Gaddes's mind. The torchflame wavered – his hand was shaking.

As Gaddes opened the false wall for them, Allen seemed to read something on his face, and he turned, concern in his eyes. "Will you be all right?"

Gaddes didn't know what to say.

"As long as she is," he managed, at last.

"I'll let you know," said Allen.

Then they were gone.

Gaddes's head was spinning. He shook himself off, and went to bar the thrice-damned door... when he noticed something on it.

At the level of his throat, the wooden stylus was lodged between the door panels.

Gaddes yanked at it, having to rock it a little to pry it out. He held it up to the torch. Its tip was split from the force of impact.

"Fuck," he said. He bit his fist to keep from cursing the gods.

It had been in Celena's hand.

 _Who was it who'd thrown it?_


End file.
